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Dogs In Sweaters and the Infertility Highway

I almost took a nosedive out of my office chair, so surprised by the sun was I.
After days of deluge and dark skies, the sun is peeking at me with an impish grin from behind my office curtains and without realizing it, my heart feels tickled by the warmth of it.
It reminds me to have hope.
Today started off with a visit to my doctor. One of my many doctors. You see, for the past two years Dustin and I have been travelling down Infertility Highway, and every mile along the way has a mandatory road side stop, each one representing one more invasive test, one more blood draw, one more change to diet or medication or opinion. I'm not complaining, I'm thankful for my doctors, I'm thankful that they have hope...., because there are days that I'm so tired of fighting for this, it's good to have someone to have hope for me.
But "this" represents a baby.
Isn't that worth fighting for?
Yes it is.
Things have been getting better for me. I've finally been able to lose weight and exercise doesn't necessarily always feel like I've just had my ankles wrapped in cement and a guy named Vinny is pushing me off the pier. This is great, right? But sitting there on that cold metal table, getting my blood pressure taken, answering the myriad of questions...., I couldn't help but feel panic and fear rising up in my chest. I was brought back to the moment when Dustin and I were taken into a small, sterile room and a stranger was telling us that our daughter, the little baby growing in my womb, wasn't going to live.
I expected to hear another nail in the coffin of my hopes.
I couldn't seem to help my reaction, it's almost automatic these days.
I hurriedly texted Dustin while waiting to talk to the next doctor and this was his reply,
"It's ok sweetie. Remember, we have come to expect bad news, so we both get worked up sometimes. Lord, I pray peace for Mariam today. Don't let her forget that you are with her."
One of the things I am most thankful for in this life is this man that I married. He seriously gets me.
I don't have an answer for these fears and doubts..., all I can continuously do is say, "Lord, do you see this? It sucks. I don't know what to do here, but your Word says that you are faithful to complete the good work you began in me, that you have not given me a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind." All I can actually do, is choose to trust that what He has said in his Word is His faithful truth..., therefore, it is my faithful truth.
Dustin and I have been dealing with this secretly for a while, not knowing who to talk to and feeling more and more isolated from our friends and family. Infertility Highway is lonely. In my self-pitying state, I choose to hole up and hide away, nursing my wounds in the dark quiet corners where I think no one can see or hear me. But if I'm honest, those dark corners are a deathly sort of comfort. They just keep me from engaging in life, when I know that God isn't allowing Dustin and I to face these things to keep us from life. Deep down, I think He's consistently and clearly asking me to choose life. Over and over again if need be. He says he uses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise...., what better way to confound than to choose life when death is the operative word.
My Edy died, but she is so alive in my heart. She has changed me and her father in so many beautiful ways..., and it is my constant joy to know that she is singing and dancing with Jesus.., that she is so wise and full of life with Him.
My womb seems to be dead, but God opened Elizabeth's womb and she bore John the Baptist. He opened Sarah's womb and she bore Isaac. A closed womb is no barrier to God's will.
If all I can do is say, "I trust you Daddy."
Then that is all I'm going to do.
I'm still seeing doctors, I'm still caught between bitter and sweet, I'm still hoping for a miracle..., it feels like the smallest diamond of hope, hiding in the deepest crevice my heart can find. But it's there. I don't think it will ever go away.
I don't want it to.
As Dustin and I are bustling around getting ready for our Christmas time family adventures, and putting our poor dog into tight Christmas sweaters, we are both choosing to trust our God. We are so thankful for our family who prays for us and with us, for our friends who have loved us in the awkwardness of our journey, for our dog who makes us laugh. God knew we needed to laugh and he gave us the best gift of laughter in our Sir Neville Barkus.

So, for all those pet owners who squeeze their four legged family members into holiday attire, all those parents and grandparents, cousins and geezers, bosses and co-workers, friends and aquaintances.....


P.S. Dustin and I recorded a little something for you all:


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