And If Not

I'd approached Him all these years on this one issue like the beggar I thought He'd made me to be, inconsequential and insignificant before Him. Please God, please God. I repeated words like rote religious petitions, stumbling over myself to get close to an answer, when the One giving the answer wasn't even in my picture. The One on the other end of my requests was behind guarded doors, doling out responses like Santa Claus. And I, apparently, had not been "nice." I prayed as one who believes she is cursed might pray.
Every Bitter Thing is Sweet

Oh man you guys, my world is getting rocked right now by a tiny little book... just 8 inches tall, and 208 pages from cover to cover. But oh man, it's good. I mentioned earlier that I was reading Every Bitter Thing is Sweet by Sara Hagerty. Many of you might have read it. I had wanted to read it for a few months, but didn't want to shovel out the ten bucks (because I say no). I put it on my Christmas list and my mother-in-law got it for me. Every few pages had a line or two that caused my world to shift. It was so good that about half way through it I literally just started over. I didn't want to miss a thing.

Her question from the beginning is one that I've been asking myself for years, but I didn't have the words to articulate it. Her question, "Is He [God] good to me?" becomes the central focus of her story as she deals with infertility, adoption, marriage, and financial struggles. It becomes the lens through which she views each circumstance.

The author says that due to infertility, she began to see herself as cursed. It's not the way I would describe myself, probably because it conjures up the idea of witches or karma or something. But if I think about the word simply as the opposite of blessed, I begin to understand her use of the word. The lives of others, hundreds, thousands of others, are blessed. But this one thing, this one prayer, has gone unanswered... I have not been blessed, so I must be cursed. She writes the following in response to her father's diagnosis of brain cancer, "Of course. This is just how my life goes. Why should I expect it to be different? If I want something, it will always elude me." And I have to admit, that some days, that's exactly how I feel. It's as if infertility has become this Thing upon which my life is measured. The presence of it in my life means that I am not yet blessed, I am not yet chosen. 

I could write ten posts just about the mess, the ugly that this book is stirring up and causing me to confront. I want to focus in on one idea though. Tucked away in the midst of chapter eight is this line that absolutely rocked my world.: "I struggled, instead, with knowing that God could heal me, but he didn't." She writes that part after adopting two children. She was a mom, yet she still felt that way. I don't know why, but that line hit me like a ton of bricks. It sums up my whole experience, this whole wrestling match with God. It's what I've been trying to say for almost four years, but haven't had the words. I'm desperate for infertility to end, not simply because I want a baby, not simply because I want to give birth, not simply because making babies in the bed is a lot less expensive than any other method, but because I'm terrified of who I will be if my "fertile years" run out and He never chooses to heal me. Will I still love Him? Will I be able to stare Him in the face, crawl up in His lap, cry out 'Abba Father' knowing He could have created life with just a breath, but He never did?

It brings out this idea that's becoming more and more popular. She Reads Truth readers have made it their banner cry... they even have a t-shirt (I want!). The idea is this: And if not... He is still good.  This idea of "and if not" is not new. The idea is scriptural, going back all the way to the book of Daniel when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were threatened with death by fire if they would not kneel before the king's idols. Daniel 3:17-18 says, "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." It's a hard place to come to. A place where we say even if You NEVER answer my greatest, hardest, most earnest prayer, You are still good. This is one of those "I want to be like that" moments, but I'm not sure I'm there, or at least not consistently. I'm still struggling to process. I'm still arguing with myself that I'd be more blessed, that He'd be a better God if He gave me this one thing. It's hard to wrestle with the thought that your God is all powerful, that He can make something out of nothing, and yet, what if He doesn't?

The author eventually comes to see that her life was blessed, in ways she wasn't looking for, in ways she didn't expect, in ways she didn't request. And part of that blessing was infertility… it's not even a silver lining kind of thing. Infertility changed her. As myself and many others have experienced, infertility is like a glacier, slowly carving out the terrain of your life. Infertility made her more open, more vulnerable with her husband. It made her more empathetic towards others. It made her desperate enough to take crazy big risks to go after four orphans in Africa. But I believe she'd say most importantly, it made her long to see her Father more clearly. She writes, "I had a lot of ideas about God that weren't actually God's ideas about God… I saw more clearly the disconnection between who I said God is and who I believed Him to be." Eventually she sees that the presence of infertility is what reconciled her, brought her to her knees at the feet of the One who could change it all, and not the lap of Santa. But it was a process. A whole decade in the making. She ultimately decides that "God allowed [infertility]. Maybe even invited it" and that He did so because He could see the finished product that she'd become.

I've wrestled with some of these thoughts before. I wrote a post awhile ago where I struggled to find the reason for the presence of infertility in my life. Later, I wrote a post where I tired to wrestle with the idea of giving thanks for infertility, even if it is the ultimate weed in my life. I feel like I'm on the cusp of coming full circle. The reason for infertility isn't what is important because the answer won't change much of anything. And offering thanks is well and good, but there is more.

I've allowed infertility, my barrenness to become the lens by which I view the world. Or more accurately, to color the lens I use to view the world. When I view my life, and the lives of those around me I see evidence of being overlooked by God. You can see where Sara's question comes in. The question isn't "is God good?" but rather the question is "is God good to me?" Is God good? Absolutely. Is God good to me? Maybe. I hope so. Let's wait and see. If asked, I wouldn't have said any of that, but that's what would have rolled through the dusty, darkness of my mind where tumbleweeds blow from one corner to the next. But now, as I continue to wrestle, as I continue to stretch I'm coming to a slightly different idea. Maybe God's goodness isn't measured simply in giving good gifts, which He does, but rather in allowing us to come to a place where we desire Him more than His gifts. Maybe He allows it, even invites it so that I'll eventually come to a place where I can write, "I wanted Him. Whether He came and lifted my circumstances, or He just came."

___________________________________

I'm assuming you were hoping for an update out of all of that. I don't know much. We had our interview last night. It was awkward, and touching, and stressful, and hard. And it made me admire and like this woman 10,000 times more than before. This situation feels so right to me for so many reasons, but I have no inkling if the expectant mom is feeling the same. We know now that we went second; the other couple had their interview yesterday morning. I also know that my consultant really wanted us to go first because, in her words, "the first couple almost always gets chosen." I also know that the two women from the agency that were on both phone calls are split in their opinion as to who she will choose. This could go either way. We don't feel settled, or secure, or confident in anyway. I also know that everything you wanted to say apparently comes to mind and mouth about 4:30am after the phone call. We are hopeful that we will have an answer within the next few days… as always, the waiting is the hardest part.

We are desperately hoping that this little boy is our bring home baby… but if not He is still good. 

And Then There Were Two

I'm alive, though you wouldn't know it from the blog these days. It has been a busy season. I think of the blog every few days and think, "oh it's okay, I posted a few days ago, only to check and see that no, it was a week ago two weeks ago." And now it's been three weeks.

Let's see, in the last three weeks, I accepted a new position, put in my two week notice, left my old job, started a new job, signed up for private insurance, received my rocker for the nursery (eek), bought a crib and dresser (double eek), finalized plans for the nursery (who is this person?), and well, I think that about covers it. Oh wait, no. I applied for two new adoption cases. The first didn't go far because the expectant mother never showed up to review profiles. But the second, be still my heart. The second has brought us as far as we've ever been. Drum roll please…

We're one of TWO!!!

The expectant mom has selected us and one other couple to interview before making her final decision. For now, our interview is set for Tuesday evening, but it very easily could get bumped to Wednesday. There are quite a number of parties involved in the interview, so I'm trying to be as flexible and accommodating as possible. We've submitted questions for the her and we're awaiting the questions that she plans to ask us. That's basically it… just waiting.

I'm teetering on the edge between, "this can't possibly work because things like this never work out for me" and "oh, have mercy, I could be a MOM in less than 6 weeks!" I'm honestly pretty terrified that we won't present ourselves well. Sam is NOT a talker, and on the phone… umm, no. I, by nature lead conversations. In consults with the doctor, Sam typically asked one question, maybe two if he was feeling particularly chatty. And I came across as highly organized, extreme type-A personality who needed answers to all life's questions… which is basically true, but not exactly the side I want to shine through tomorrow. The advice I've gotten is to personable, show emotion, and connect. Three things that I am NOT good at doing, particularly when I'm meeting someone, and even more so when I'm nervous. I just really needed the profile book to carry me through the match process. I did not want the decision to come down to my ability to shine in a phone call.

But I really have to give this expectant mom credit. She is taking this so seriously, and I really commend her for it. Her words to the agency last friday were this: "I can only do this one thing for my son. I want to do it really well." Gah, that just breaks my heart and makes me love her at the same time. She reviewed several profiles, but just couldn't decide between us and one other, so she's interviewing both over the phone before she decides. After that, she wants to meet the couple she selects before the birth. See? She's 110% in this, serious, devoted, committed. I really admire her and everything I've heard about her from the agency is just so impressive.

The few people that we've already told have asked about the other couple. I have zero information on the couple other than that must be within 6-7 hours of the expectant mom as that was her one stipulation on the original profiles. People joke that they are surely hideous, or some other undesirable characteristic that will make us the automatic winner. But the truth is that they are probably a lot like us. I've read through about 50 prospective adoptive parent profiles during this journey. If you remove the singles and homosexual couples, you're left with a very similar group. I'd say about 80% of the heterosexual couples are seeking domestic adoption due to infertility in some form or another. Our stories, when written in a brief paragraph, all read about the same. Judging by this woman's interest in us, the other couple is probably a lot like us: mid to late twenties or early thirties, married three to ten years, no children, struggling to conceive or dealing with reoccurring pregnancy loss. We're probably a lot more alike than we are different. She's probably obsessing over her questions and worrying the nights away about what to say (and not to say) in the phone call. They're probably looking at the calendar in amazement and cautiously hoping that life changes forever in the next few weeks. It's a competition of sorts because there will only be one "winner," but it feels a lot like competing against one of my sisters. I know this woman's pain. I've lived her darkest moments. I know intimately how badly she wants this.

So friends, that's where we are. Ever so cautiously waiting and trying desperately to guard our hearts. One of two is a heck of a lot further than we've been before, but I am not a betting woman, and 50% odds have never sounded good to me. The good news is that as always, there will be an end to this waiting and hoping and guessing. Both couples will interview with the expectant mom early this week, so I'm hopeful that we'll know one way or another by the end of this week.

If you're the sort to pray, we're currently scheduled for our call at 7pm tomorrow. I'd really appreciate prayers for Sam and I. I want to walk away from the phone call saying that we did well. That we presented ourselves earnestly and honestly and that we loved and respected this woman. Pray for my heart, that I can show emotion on this call, yet keep myself grounded and guarded this week as we wait. And pray for this woman and her son. This is one of those "I want to want what You want, Father" kind of situations for me. Ultimately, we want what is best for the baby. If that's us, SUPER, but if not, that's okay too.

Update: The interview is Tuesday at 7:30.

I Said No

The last five years have really taught me the value of a dollar. I mean, ever since my parents' divorce I've been slowly learning this lesson, but getting married and plunging head first into grad school will give you a crash course really quickly. Sam and I lived comfortably, but we regularly said no to fun things that first year of marriage. We would hear about a party with friends or a night out for dinner and a movie with another couple and we would say to one another, "I don't know how they do it!" We were makings ends meet... no ramen noodles on our menu, but we were certainly learning to cut corners and the easiest corners to cut for us have always been entertainment and eating out.

And then, after that first 18 months of marriage, infertility treatments smashed like a freight train right into our lives. It seemed like I couldn't possibly cut the budget anymore. But as time went on, I just simply learned to do without. I never ordered Mary Kay makeup again. When it ran out, I went to Target and bought the cheapest thing I could find. My shampoo was whatever was on sale, plus a coupon. I learned to color my own hair if I wanted a color change. Dinner and a movie changed to Redbox and a five dollar pizza from Little Caesar. Slowly, I began to become a person who says "no" to all "extras." I would say my only real splurge at this time is Starbucks coffee... I'm an espresso drink fan and I literally work 50 feet from Starbucks, but for the most part, I stick to whatever we agree to reload to the card each month. 

My husband is not a fan of the "no" me. There have been so many times that he's wanted to go play golf, or go bowling, or go to dinner. While I'm certainly not the decision maker in this family, I have a way of shining a light on the budget. "Oh, how great babe, I didn't know you found an extra $70 on the ground last week... how perfect for your golf game," It's really an art form. 70% of the time, I successfully guilt lovingly suggest that we should once again skip this activity. The 30% of the time I fail to convince him, I'm really awesome at providing the silent treatment or playing the guilt game over his failure to commit to whatever we're saving for. "I'm so glad you enjoyed your breakfast with friends, love! That's really awesome that you got waffles and hashbrowns, foods you can make for a buck fifty, while our IVF savings account sits about half full"... I wish I could say that those words never came out of my mouth, but they have, more times than I'd like to admit.

Truly, I feel guilty about spending money on things we don't "need." Dinner with my husband just doesn't fall in the necessary column. I've been struggling the last few years to recognize the value in doing things together. Or with friends. The concept of date night is 100% foreign to me at this point. We haven't been to a movie together in over a year, and before that maybe two or more. The last time we went out for a nice dinner was for our anniversary almost two years ago, and that was because we had a gift card which covered 100% of the meal.

While I definitely see the benefits of being thrifty, living below our means, choosing to make sacrifices, etc. I can also say that there are certain losses with that type of life. The loss of friendship opportunities is certainly there. Say no to manicures and karaoke nights enough and eventually your friends will give up on you. I've been fortunate to have FANTASTIC friends who never give up on me, and regularly extend the offer, but I imagine I'm pretty much the lamest friend ever. The answer is always no.

I can also see how the long term presence of "no" within the marriage begins to take effect too. Once upon a time, we thought of little ways to surprise each other... even if it was totally lame like "hey babe, I bought you 64 ounces of diet coke" (swoon). So much of that kind of "I thought of you, so I..." and "I love you, so lets..." has died. Now I'm sure part of that is because hello, we've been married for almost 5 years. The honeymoon is o-ver. But our financial struggles with infertility and now adoption have certainly only added to the problem. so many well-meaning people over the years have suggested that I use this time to "be married." What they mean by that is celebrate our marriage and the good things we have with date nights and vacations and special things. I've literally been told to let Sam "lavish" me multiple times. I've yet to laugh or fire back at that comment but really, things are so far from lavish around here. And that's okay. I'm not looking at my husband thinking why "why haven't you planned a secret getaway?" We live this way because I want to, because I want more for us than date nights and vacations.

I've been thinking lately how much of this attitude has simply become who I am. I don't even think, "well, I'd love to, but..." I don't check the accounts for margin. It takes me less than two seconds to answer because the answer is always no. I sometimes think that once we complete this adoption, I'll loosen up and live a little more. But the honest truth is, I probably won't. At least not willingly. I'll have diapers and formula and daycare to add to the budget. And I'll have those four embryos in Florida to worry about. I can think of 10,000 excuses to stay exactly as I am. But I also think about the child we're hoping to bring home, the one we've waited for for so long. And I wonder if this is the kind of mother I want to be. I'm not talking about blowing the budget, going into debt, that sort of thing... I know that's not the lifestyle I want to live. But do I want to be a mom who feels guilty about spending gas money to drive my kid to the park? I see moms who enroll their kids in swim class and music lessons and gymnastics and all that kind of stuff and I wonder, if we ever get there, to that point in life, will I recognize those expenses for what they are or will I just say no? Has the need to constantly save altered who I am down to my very core so that all if know how to do is say no? Will I ever learn to say yes again?