The Eye of the Storm

Heads up – this post might get into a little medical TMI… It’s also pretty emotionally raw…So if you want to avoid that, then feel free to skip this post!

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First off, our goal with sharing our story is to let others going through the same thing know that they are not alone. It’s a very vulnerable topic (so much so that I got Erik’s permission to share it before posting), but we’re not posting in order to make people feel bad for us…. This type of struggle can just feel really isolating for everyone going through it at certain times, and we want to be there for anyone going through what we’re going through in our lives. So, hopefully this post is helpful, and if you are also struggling in the way we are, know that you are not alone in this <3 And know that we’re praying for you, and we appreciate all those who pray for us every day too <3

With that said, here’s the post:

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Have you ever gone through something so hard you weren’t sure if God still cared about you?

I mean, I know in my heart that God cares about me and loves me, but sometimes it’s difficult for me to feel it in my heart.

This has been the most frustrating, disappointing, and agonizing season of life I’ve ever gone through. And it has tested my faith significantly in ways I didn’t expect.

All my life, as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a mother. A huge desire I had for marriage included marrying someone who would be an amazing partner in the journey of parenthood.

When we got married, Erik and I had decided to wait a few years before trying for kids. I finally convinced him to let us start trying about 6 months before our 2nd anniversary came along, and I was ecstatic. Nothing could make me happier than having a child with the man I love more than anyone in the world. 

Imagine my utter disappointment when one month went by and I realized things hadn’t gone according to plan.

I was hurt, angry, and depressed, but I bounced back pretty quickly and wasn’t incredibly discouraged. I knew we could try again and that babies aren’t always made in a month. Though the continued news that other people I knew were expecting didn’t help the rollercoaster of emotions waging war within me that day.

Heart heavy, I grieved, and then set upon focusing on next month. Surely, this time, it would work for us. 

The second month came and went. And then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth. More and more pregnancy announcements popped up from close friends and acquaintances alike, along with questions from well-meaning, but unknowing, people inquiring as to  “when were we going to start having kids?” 

It seemed like everyone in the world was getting pregnant… except us.

Panic was rising within me at every failed month. I refused to say the word “infertility” out loud or in my mind, trying to deny it. 

Why God? 

Why would you give me this deeply rooted dream, only to rip it away from me? I prayed, and all the while, I struggled to understand why and how so many others had gotten pregnant on their first try (or without even trying at all), while we had tried so hard for MONTHS with no results.

I finally understood what it felt like to be depressed. It came in waves – hope rising with each month, only to come crashing down like a precious vase being thrown down onto an unrelenting asphalt road – shattered into the tiniest bits and pieces. With despair, came deep pain, anguish, and bitter tears shed in private.

And still the questions came.

“When are you guys going to have a baby?”

“You say my baby is cute? You know, you could have one of your own if you wanted.”

“When are you starting a family?”

And the one that hurts me the most…

“Erik is going to be such a great dad.”

Each question pierced my soul and sent waves of emotional pain through me. I cried harder than I thought possible. I prayed. Nothing helped. And I couldn’t hear God speaking to me very much.

Except for small whispers saying “Trust me, and be patient.”

After 6 months, we got sick of people asking and we just started answering with “We’re trying and it’s not working.” That usually quieted the teasing.

It did something else too – telling others invited them into our pain, to help walk with us. I wish we would’ve told others sooner to be honest… Instead of waiting 6 months. Almost immediately, it made everything much easier. People reached out and prayed for us, supported us. And they still do to this day. I am and will always be, forever grateful.

But the pain and yearning to become parents only deepened with each month of failure. Erik tried to fully understand my pain (because it was different than his own), and I would get angry when he wasn’t able to. I grew impatient, I have treated him poorly at times, and yet he has still loved me and tried his best to help us through this insanely difficult time. I’ve had to apologize to him and ask his forgiveness over and over…which he has graciously given every time. I have the best husband – he shows me over and over again what the love of Christ looks like.

Eventually, doctor’s visits and tests started filling up our schedule as we started searching for whatever roadblock was in our way. 

The phone call with the test results came almost a year after we started trying.

I can still remember how I felt…and how Erik looked. We were both stunned. I had imagined all sorts of scenarios and outcomes, but this hit me out of nowhere.

Erik sat at our kitchen table, sobbing. I was still on the phone with the doctor, and she was telling me she was “so sorry” and I maintained control while on the phone with her so I could get as much information as possible for next steps.

After I hung up, I fell down with Erik into the pit of despair. I’ve never known anything so dark. I knew this kind of thing happened to some people… but I had never thought it would happen to me…to us.

My worst nightmare was coming true, and I didn’t know if I could handle it.

Turns out, we’re in the 1% of all cases. After months of consultations with specialty doctors, we had one more chance to see if we could fix things.

Our second test came back.

Same results.

I remember leaving our house alone on a Wednesday morning, silently grieving. Feeling like my entire heart was being torn to shreds. The pain was (and still is sometimes) unbearable. 

WHY God? I screamed in my head over and over. I had come a long way in the past year, realizing God wasn’t fighting against me, but still not understanding why he would let me suffer like this.

I headed to a coffee shop to hide in a booth. Away from everyone – including Erik. I hadn’t even told him where I was going (I’m a great wife – aren’t I?).

My soul cried out to the Lord. I needed him so badly, and over and over I felt him say he was with me and he would hold me while I cried. I wanted to know why this was happening, but I didn’t get an answer. All I heard was “trust me and be patient – this isn’t anyone’s fault.”

Eventually, after hours of pouring out my heart to God, I went home. Broken, but strengthened in the fact that God still loved me… even if I wasn’t being given the desire of my heart.

I eventually realized I was angry at God and Erik, even though it wasn’t either of their faults. 

Life just sucks sometimes. Really sucks. And life is grossly unfair too.

This is a somewhat vulnerable post…. Because we’re not out of the woods on this yet. It’s been about a year and a half, and still no baby. Not even close.

But I’ve seen my faith grow, even though I am often terrible at letting it grow. I’ve seen my relationship with my husband grow stronger as we fight this fight together, and I’ve seen and felt how our community (from church, family, and friends) has come around us. Surrounding us, comforting us, praying for us, and just being there for us in ways that mean the world to us.

I know God has a purpose for this, even though it hurts more than I thought possible. Our next steps basically include an expensive pre-surgery with a 50% success rate, followed by IVF (if the pre-surgery is successful), and IVF is, of course, so well known for its affordability (obviously not, but I have to laugh or I’ll cry lol).

I still get angry sometimes. To say it’s frustrating that we would have to pay thousands of dollars for something other people can achieve for free would be an understatement. And insurance, even though we don’t have traditional insurance, won’t cover it at all (which is a pure joy…lol).

So apologies that this post doesn’t really have a happy ending… except I guess that I’m continuing to pursue God in the storm, trusting he has answers to the “whys”… either in this life, or the next.

Thank you to my parents and Erik’s parents, who have prayed for us, encouraged us, and supported us when things seemed so dark. Thank you to our friends who never stop praying for us either, and who always ask us how we’re doing – grieving with us and loving us. You all know who you are.

You all mean the world to us <3

If this past year and a half has taught me anything, it’s that I will be okay. Maybe not right away, but that I will eventually be okay. And that it’s okay to just not be okay sometimes.

And for now, that’s enough.

 

Until next time,
Hope Anderson

 

Photo by Shashank Sahay on Unsplash