Yes, I really haven't posted since Easter. The blogging guilt is great, but I'm just going to pretend I haven't been gone.

Guess what? I was blessed by Mother's Day this year.

(No, I'm not pregnant.)

I went to church with the usual expectations: All the moms will be asked to stand, everyone will clap a lot, I will sit and feel a knot in my stomach and a desire to sink into the floor.

During the singing time at the beginning of our church meeting, I tried to prepare my heart. We sang songs with a focus on the spread of God’s kingdom and glory, asking him to “use us as You want, whatever the test.” That reminded me that my trials are about something bigger than myself. In ways I can’t always see, he is using the troubles in my life to spread the gospel. As we sang, God brought to my mind these words from 2 Cor. 4:

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.

What a precious reminder that while I am afflicted, perplexed and struck down by infertility, I am not crushed, driven to despair, forsaken, or destroyed. Not even on Mother's Day. I was encouraged to think of that moment of sitting down while mothers were honored as a small way of dying to self and sharing in Christ’s sufferings, and as a way to show the life of Christ in me by sitting in peace rather than in shame or self-pity.

But God still had more encouragement in store for me.

Our church is in the middle of a series on Proverbs, and that morning we skipped ahead to Proverbs 31. Tab (our senior pastor) shared some words of praise for various moms in our church that their husbands had sent in at his request. But then he highlighted three single ladies (one with a teenager, one with grown children, and one who has never married or had kids) and how they have been fruitful women. My heart lifted to know that those of us ladies who are in the demographic minority among the women in church were remembered and honored. Then, at the end of his message, Tab asked ALL the ladies – young, old, single, married, moms or not – to stand and be honored and prayed for. I started crying happy tears. For the first time in five years, rather than battling for faith during the entire Sunday morning of Mother’s Day and feeling isolated by the lack of children that I so desire, I experienced a Mother’s Day at church where I felt uplifted and encouraged and joyful.

I'm so grateful for such a tangible reminder of God's favor for me, secured to me by his Son!

*****************************

For another, better post on Mother's Day, please read Molly Piper's "Do you want to die this Mother's Day?" If you've lost a child or experienced infertility, you'll identify and be spurred on. If you haven't experienced either of those things, it will help you understand a little bit more of what goes on in the hearts of your friends who have.

Unfulfilled

We sang the hymn "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" at church this past Sunday. The lyrics flooded me with memories and emotions. Five years ago, I wanted desperately to start trying to conceive, but Aaron thought (and I agreed logically) we should wait one more year. During that year, I listened to "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" many times. The words encouraged my faith in God's plans and gave me hope.

Hast thou not seen
How thy desires e'er have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?

"Surely," I thought, "the Lord will grant my desire for children. I can be patient for a year until we can start trying to get pregnant." So I waited, and I hoped. We finally started trying to conceive in January of 2005. We were still trying in 2006. 2007. 2008. Now in 2009, I sang the same hymn, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

Hast thou not seen
How thy desires e'er have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?

"No," I thought, "I haven't seen that. I've seen my desires denied again and again. I haven't been healed. I don't have children. God hasn't granted my desires; He has deferred my hope indefinitely." The words of praise that had previously offered such a balm now brought a surge of grief and weariness over how long this trial of infertility has lasted. So much longer than I ever expected. No clear end in sight. As we kept singing, I was reminded that the proof of God's goodness lies not in my circumstances but in the cross, not in giving me everything I want but in giving me Himself. But still, I ache with the unfulfilled yearning for children.

New Year

Welcome, day one of the new year. Welcome, day one of a new cycle. Welcome, day one of our fifth year of trying to conceive. Sigh.

During the Christmas season, I found myself mulling over this verse from "Joy to the World":

No more let sins or sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground.
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as the curse is found.

The curse is found right here in this broken body of mine, this frail flesh that can't create and carry life like it's intended to do. I've had four years of growing sorrow, four years of the stinging, prickly thorn of infertility. How I would dearly love for His blessings to flow in a reversal of my barrenness, for the Lord to say, "No more!" to this trial. I don't know if that will happen in 2009. But he has said, "No more!" to my sin, has turned my soul into a fruitful garden, and has given me every spiritual blessing in Christ. That's more than enough for a very happy day and happy new year.

Battling Bitterness, Part 2

As I first sat down to consider how I could put off bitterness and put on love, I didn't know quite where to begin. Having just gotten the book A Gospel Primer by Milton Vincent, I decided to thumb through it and see if anything pertained to my struggles. From a section entitled "Stimulated to Love Others," I read the following:

When my mind is fixed on the gospel, I have ample stimulation to show God's love to other people. For I am always willing to show love to others when I am freshly mindful of the love that God has shown me. Also, the gospel gives me the wherewithal to give forgiving grace to those who have wronged me, for it reminds me daily of the forgiving grace that God is showing me.
Doing good and showing love to those who have wronged me is always the opposite of what my sinful flesh wants me to do. Nonetheless, when I remind myself of my sins against God and of His forgiving grace toward me, I give the gospel an opportunity to reshape my perspective and to put me in a frame of mind wherein I actually desire to give this same grace to those who have wronged me (emphasis mine).

In my bitterness, I was far from desiring to give grace to those who wronged me. I wanted to give the silent treatment, or sarcastic cutting remarks, or a stern lecture. To really defeat bitterness, I needed not simply to resist making those remarks or turning a cold shoulder. I needed a complete change of attitude. What could make that change? I needed to spend time reminding myself of the gracious, forgiving love God has shown to me. I wronged him, sinning against him in pride, in selfishness; how did he respond? He did not shut himself off from me, roll his eyes at me, speak or act harshly to me. No, he sacrificed himself, so that I could be his friend rather than his enemy. When I revel in being forgiven and loved in Christ, then I will actually want to forgive and love others.

So now I knew where I stood. I was cherishing bitterness because I was functionally ignoring God's forgiveness and love. And I knew where I wanted to get. I wanted to revel in the gospel so deeply that I couldn't help but leave bitterness behind. I wanted grace instead of grudges. How would I get from Point A to Point B?

In the footnotes of that section of A Gospel Primer, the author referenced three Scripture passages that would become my route to renewal. I'll address those next...

Battling Bitterness

Earlier this fall, I began to recognize some bitterness in some of my relationships. When particular people committed petty offenses against me, I would react out of proportion. As I sought to understand my responses, I saw that I was beginning to hold grudges, to keep a record of wrongs. Each slight dredged up resentment over any time that individual had acted inconsiderately or sinned against me in the past (at least according to my perception). I didn't want to forgive; I wanted to act in a way that punished the people who had hurt me. Thankfully, God opened up my eyes to this pattern of bitterness. Then, he provided time for a spiritual retreat, during which Aaron suggested that I focus on how I could grow in love for those toward whom I was tempted to be bitter. It's been a fruitful study, although I still need to pursue growth here. I'd like to take a few posts to share some of the ways I've sought to renew my mind, in case that would be a timely help to any of you. Coming tomorrow (Lord willing): the quote that kicked off my battle against bitterness...

Some Personal Additions to "What I'd Like for You to Know"

A while back* when I pointed you all to the infertility edition of the "What I'd Like for You to Know" series at Rocks In My Dryer, one friend asked if there was anything I would add to it. Here are a few personal additions, but first a caveat. This is a list of challenges that are often overlooked. People can see when I'm doing well, and by God's grace I have grown in contentment amid infertility. Here, I'm addressing some specific temptations that you wouldn't be aware of if you haven't experienced infertility or a similar trial.

I don't just grieve over our inability to have a baby; I grieve over a whole set of dreams.
We don't have a baby. I've never been pregnant. But the ache of infertility isn't just about these efforts for a first child. We wanted to have a full family, maybe four kids. Even if we do ever conceive once, I know that won't be a magic bullet that kills off our infertility once and for all. One child would be a miracle, and I would be overjoyed. More than one child... well, that seems like too much to ask at this point. We will probably exhaust our arsenal of fertility treatments if we get pregnant. Or we will exhaust our finances (after having to scrape the funds together in the first place) if we pursue adoption. Infertility doesn't just mean we can't have one child; it means we can't have the family we hoped to have.

Milestones are bittersweet.
The anniversary we celebrated recently was delightful. We're grateful for every year of marriage. But I'm also very aware that an anniversary marks one more year that we haven't gotten pregnant or had a baby. When people enthusiastically say, "Happy anniversary! Wow, has it been six years already?!" - I welcome their kind joy for us, but I also think, "Yes, it has been six years, six years of just the two of us, many more years than we expected to be childless." My birthdays and Aaron's birthdays remind me that we won't get to be young parents like we wished. The new year means another year of disappointed hopes has passed, another year of trying to build a family has turned over.
And it's not just our own milestones. Your anniversaries cause pangs of jealousy; "Oh, they've been married for four years and already have two kids." Your children's birthdays can be the hardest of all. When you're celebrating your child's third birthday, I'm aware that you announced your pregnancy with that child just as we started trying to conceive. Your two-year-old? He was born during our first failed IVF cycle. If your baby is turning one, I'm steeling myself for the impending announcement of the next pregnancy. Now, we love you, and we love your kids. I sincerely do rejoice with you at your milestones. But they are also vivid reminders of what might have been, and what clearly isn't, in our family of two.

Stories of Joe and Suzy, who did (fill-in-the-blank) and then got pregnant, don't help.
One of the default attempts people make to sympathize and encourage when they hear about our infertility is to tell an anecdote of some other couple they knew. "I knew these people who couldn't get pregnant and they gave up trying, then seven years later they had a baby!" "Bill and Mary finally adopted, and then she got pregnant!" "The Smiths had twins through IVF, and then they conceived on their own four months after the twins were born!" I understand that those stories are meant to convey hope. But they don't. It would be kind of like telling a friend who just found out that she has breast cancer that you knew a guy who had prostate cancer that was cured by a little radiation. Misses the point, huh? Infertility has so many underlying causes - female factor, male factor, ovulatory dysfunction, endometriosis, thyroid disorders, poly-cystic ovaries, and so on. Your friends who ultimately got pregnant probably had an entirely different reason for their infertility, and so their success has about as much bearing on our situation as the case of prostate cancer would have to the case of breast cancer. It's much better to ask questions about our specific struggles than to offer a random story of so-and-so. (I would imagine that this would go for most health challenges or significant trials.)
Relatedly, it's also not helpful when you only offer blind optimism that ignores my very real doubt that we will ever have children. All of those types of stories mentioned previously have one common thread - the "happy" ending. When people assume we will get that same "happily-ever-after" to our story of infertility, it hurts more than it helps, because it misses the fact that a large part of the struggle is the uncertainty, the fear that our family will never grow. We've had people visit our new house and make comments about how certain rooms will make a great nursery someday; that's like salt in the wound, because we might never need a room for a baby. I need others to hope and have faith for me, but not at the cost of belittling the pain of how small that hope often feels. And not in a way that communicates that the only happy solution is the one where we get the baby. God will be faithful and will bless us even if we never have children.

Reaching across seasons of life should go both ways.
Most of my friends have children. Most of them have young children, which means they're in a season of life where motherhood is fairly consuming. Their thoughts and therefore their conversations tend toward what's going on with the kids. This increases exponentially when the conversation includes a group of moms. That's understandable, and I generally want to know what's going on with my friends kids and how they're enjoying or being challenged by being a mother. But I really appreciate those who are sensitive toward the temptations those types of conversations pose for me. It means a lot when a friend makes an effort to talk about the areas of her life beyond being a mother, or when she asks me about my life. It helps so much when someone steers a group conversation to a topic that everyone - including me - can discuss, or when someone pulls me aside after a talk-fest about kids' antics or schedules or what-have-you and asks how I'm doing or acknowledges that the conversation was probably hard for me.
At my church, we emphasize that our common bond is not in a season of life or in certain practices, but in the gospel. As the odd-woman-out, I often feel like the burden falls on me to make the efforts to find that unity in the gospel. I'll keep making those efforts, but I'm blessed when those in the majority resist the urge to rely on the common bond of circumstances and make those efforts toward unity a two-way street. (Again, this would apply to many different trials - to the single in a group of married women, to the public-schooler in a group of home-schoolers, etc.)

These few temptations aren't the whole story of infertility. And these temptations aren't necessarily constant. By and large, I have outstanding friends who are deeply sensitive, who have shown great kindness and made serious efforts to understand over these past four years. I'm so grateful for the gifts that I have even while I suffer - for my marriage, for my home, for my church, for grace to persevere. But hopefully this list will help you to understand some of the unspoken challenges and to learn how to extend even more compassion and comfort to those who need it.

*Two months ago, I noticed when I dug up the older post. Have I seriously been thinking about the question for that long? My blogging is finally starting to catch up with my thoughts... And sadly, thinking about this post for so long hasn't really made it well-written. Oh well.

A Mother of None on a Mother of Six on a Mother of Five

As an infertile, married woman who works outside the home, I've struggled off and on over the past few years with feeling like a second-class citizen of the church. It's not that the church intentionally belittles me and my position; far from it. But in the rush to uplift the crowd of stay-at-home moms with small children, sometimes those in other seasons of life get unintentionally trampled. In the effort to counteract cultural criticism of stay-at-home moms, the church at large uses superlative language to praise stay-at-home moms that inadvertently leaves those Christian women who aren't in that season, for whatever reason, feeling like they don't measure up, don't matter as much. I know that moms staying home with young children do hard work and need encouragement. I know that the church has a responsibility to minister to that significant population within their bodies. But single women, barren women, elderly women, working women - they all need encouragement, too. So I was very refreshed, a little over a week ago, to read the words of a stay-at-home mother of six on this very topic. She of Amy's Humble Musings has written an insightful post on the issue of a woman's highest calling (it's a response to the selection of Sarah Palin as vice president on the Republican ticket, but it's not a political post). I'd encourage you to read the whole thing, but here's an excerpt:

I am a wife and mother. It is what God has called me to do. However, this is not true for all women. All women should NOT aspire to be a wife and mother. Instead, all women should aspire to present their bodies a living sacrifice to the Lord. God is glorified in us when we are satisfied with His will for our lives. This is why some marry, some stay single, some have children, and some are barren. Glorify God in your present circumstance, the one you are in right now, not in a future marriage that may or may not happen.

Any other gospel that makes the widow, the abandoned, the orphan, the poor, the single, or the barren unable to attain high favor (or a high calling with God, if you will) because of their circumstance is really no good news at all. The Lord is honored by our love and obedience to His Word, not in our ambition to serve in the “highest calling” as a wife and mother one day [emphasis added].

He Knows. He's Good.

"...then the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials..." (2 Peter 2:9)

I read that verse on Monday morning, before going in for my beta but knowing the results would likely be negative. That phrase, "then the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials," is one full of implicit questions and answers about suffering.

When faced with affliction, most of us wrestle with challenging questions. Why has God let this happen? Why won't God stop this, take this pain away? Can God control the sorrow that batters me? If he can but doesn't, can I trust him?

We need, I need, to hold tightly to two handles. The first handle is God's sovereignty, his powerful ability to control all things in heaven and on earth. Nothing happens apart from his decision. The second handle is God's goodness. Many of us only have a grip on that second handle. I think that, within contemporary Christianity at least, the most common answer to questions about suffering is that God is good and loving and would put an end to all our problems if he could, but, well, he's just not strong enough to do that. I understand how alluring that seeming solution is, but that? Isn't God. And it's ultimately a sloppy sop of comfort. If God is powerful but not good, we're all in trouble. If God is kindly but impotent, our trials are hopeless. But, praise him, he is both! He is King, and he is Love. When I suffer, I have to hang on to both handles of God's sovereignty and goodness, dangling in the paradox of the space between them, mid-air in affliction but sure of the One to whom my soul clings.

The Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials. I am not stuck in the maze of infertility, following a God who doesn't know the way, can't see around the walls, and keeps running into dead ends. He knows how to get me out. He hasn't yet, but that's not because he takes sadistic pleasure in watching me scurry from bend to bend, corner to corner. It's because he knows the best way to rescue me. That way may be longer and have more twists than I would like, but the path that looks quickest and easiest to me would get me lost. He made the maze, and he'll lead me through it and out of it. He knows how to rescue me, and at just the right time, he will. He is a proven, wise, compassionate rescuer.

The Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials. He knows, and he's putting that knowledge to good use.

Setbacks

Tuesday was challenging.

The IUI went okay. Everything about the procedure itself happened as usual. However, Aaron's numbers were below the preferable range for IUI (motility 31% instead of 50% or greater, a count of 9 million - I think - instead of 10 million or greater). The nurse said the numbers weren't bad enough to cancel the IUI, but... momentary silence implying that we shouldn't get our hopes up... So we'll see. I have an ultrasound tomorrow to check if my ovary size indicates adequate progesterone production, and then we wait until the end of June to test for pregnancy. I know our God is bigger than any statistics, but if the conditions of this IUI are less favorable than our previous five - well, less favorable than a whole batch of negatives equals a pretty poor prognosis of success.

Then, we had bad news on the house front. You may remember we've been waiting to hear back in negotiations with the seller to take care of some relatively major issues (water damage, ancient furnace, etc.). Late Tuesday afternoon, the seller (or rather, her lawyer) sent a two-sentence letter "respectfully" declining to do any of the repairs we requested. I was bitterly disappointed. I've been trying to prepare my heart for a potential negative outcome and trying not to idolize this particular house, but the groundwork I laid crumbled almost immediately. The door hasn't completely closed on that home; we did hear a new development from the seller's lawyer today, and we're going to get some professional estimates on the work that needs to be done before we make any final decisions. But it's certainly not turning out to be a straightforward process.

So I've been weary. I'm battling unbelief, and I'm disappointed to see how my heart is growing to expect difficulty from the hand of God rather than blessing. (Honestly, my first thought upon getting the IUI and house news in the same day was, "What next, Lord? Are you going to cause one of our cars to explode? What else will you make go wrong?") I know that he will work this all for my good, and I know that all these things that feel like Plan B to me are part of his best purposes. But right now, I'd like to trade in my Person Who Grows Through Hardship badge for a membership in the People Who May Not Learn A Lot But At Least Life Is Easy club.

Any Way

During the New Attitude conference, my mind filled with memories of how we realized the failure of our first IVF at last year's conference. It was tempting to moan, "Another year past, and nothing has changed!" But that's not true. Yes, my infertility hasn't gone away. I still don't have a baby or even the whisper of a pregnancy. But my heart has changed. God has been at work to make me content and to make his Son more precious to me. And at the conference, primarily through the worship times at Na, another change happened in my heart.

For much of the past three years, I have sought to remind myself that this trial of infertility is not primarily about me but about God's purposes. I have thought, "What glory the Lord will receive when I have children!" I've expected that if I just wait long enough, the end result will be a splashy display of God's kindness when he gives me a baby and everyone around me rejoices in finally, beautifully answered prayers. But now I am starting to think, "What glory the Lord will receive even if I don't ever have children." He doesn't have to give me a baby to glorify himself, to show himself good and beautiful and true. And I'm beginning to see that I will be okay whichever way he chooses to work, whether he shows his mercy and love by fulfilling my desires for children or by enabling me to walk in grace for an entire lifetime of childlessness. Increasingly, I want the title of my life-story to be not Barren Woman Finally Blessed by God with Babies after Years of Patient Endurance but What a Savior. As we sang over and over again at New Attitude:

O Father, use my ransomed life
In any way you choose
And let my song forever be
My only boast is you.

Hallelujah! All I have is Christ.
Hallelujah! Jesus is my life.

Another Way of Escape I'm Not Going to Try: Closing My Eyes, Sticking My Fingers in My Ears, and Singing "La La La La"

Infertile women worldwide are currently hovering in dread of the weekend. This Sunday is the Day That Shall Not Be Named. When all the moms in church are asked to stand and be honored, I will be tethered to my seat by the short cord that feeds electricity to the neon sign on my forehead flashing, "Not a Mom! Not a Mom!" Or at least that's what it feels like. Every year as the second Sunday of May approaches, I start to imagine scenarios that would excuse me from church for just that one day - sickness, vacation, or at least a sudden need for a bathroom break conveniently sandwiched between singing and the sermon. A long bathroom break. On the other side of the building.

But ladies, we have a better escape route than running away from the Day That Shall Not Be Named. Can I paraphrase 1 Corinthians 10:13 for us? No temptation to self-pity, envy, or anxiety has overtaken you that is not common to women (yes, even the fertile ones). God is faithful, and he will not let the second Sunday in May tempt you beyond your ability, but on the Day That Shall Not Be Named he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure even a holiday that puts the spotlight on your heartache and yearning by celebrating the women who have what you don't. That way of escape looks different for each of us, but I can tell you this: I'm going to run to Jesus, and not to the ladies' room.

Yesterday

Yesterday, I woke up feeling anxious. One day to go until the blood test that would reveal the outcome of this IUI cycle.

Yesterday, I served in the nursery at church, holding someone else's fussing baby in my arms, standing and swaying until she calmed and slept. As the weight of her warm face pressed into my shoulder, wistfulness swelled and sighed in my heart.

Yesterday, I witnessed several young persons profess their faith in Christ and be baptized. Moms cried happily, dads proudly joined our pastors in lowering their children into the waters and raising them up again, and tears silently rolled down my cheeks as I wondered if we would ever have the joy of having children, of seeing them come to know the Savior and join his bride, the church.

Yesterday, I started to bleed.

Yesterday, Jesus Christ was the same, a rest for the weary.

Today, Jesus Christ is the same, God with me.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, and all my tomorrows, Jesus Christ will be the same, my only hope and peace.

Quick Update on the Funeral and the IUI

It looks like the potential conflict between the funeral and the IUI has been avoided. My grandpa's funeral will be Friday morning. My next monitoring appointment is tomorrow morning, so even if Dr. Owlish instructs me to trigger tomorrow evening, Saturday would be the soonest we would do the IUI. I guess it's still possible that I would have a monitoring appointment on Friday morning, but I'm not going to worry about that yet. I'm grateful for how it all seems to be working out so far.

Right now, life is in upheaval as we rearrange things in order to attend the funeral. A few weeks ago, I had agreed to watch my nephews and niece for the day tomorrow while my sister-in-law travels and brother-in-law works. So today is my last day of work for the week, which means I'm trying to cram three days worth of tasks into one. We'll try to meet my family for dinner tonight, and then we'll pack. Tomorrow will consist of a lot of juggling, in order to get Aaron's sister to the airport, me to my appointment, our nephews to and from kindergarten and preschool, and ourselves on the road to Michigan as soon as we can after handing the kids back over to my brother-in-law. It's quite hectic, but I'm trying to remember that Christ is in loving control of all these things.

Please continue to pray for safe travel and for the IUI scheduling and all these other tasks not to interfere with the time to be with family and remember my grandfather.

At the Intersection of Death and Life

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die... (Eccles. 3:1-2)

My grandfather died today. His death was not unexpected; he was in his late nineties, and he has suffered several strokes in recent years. He had another stroke yesterday, and he passed away this morning. The funeral will be either Friday or Saturday. My dad, mom, and brother fly into Chicago tomorrow, and they'll drive from here up to Michigan, where most of my dad's family live. Aaron and I hope to join them there over the weekend.

However, it's possible that the IUI will be scheduled for the weekend. At my appointment this morning, I had three dominant follicles measuring at 12, 11, and 10 mm, plus a few smaller ones. I'm still waiting for further instructions, but my guess is that I will stim for a few more days and then trigger (usually done when the dominant follicle is between 17 and 20 mm). If the IUI and the funeral end up scheduled for the same day, we'll probably have to choose between them. My mom says that we should opt to do the IUI rather than canceling the cycle, if that ends up being the case, but we're not so sure. I don't know yet what my dad would prefer. It seems so bizarre that we might have to decide either to honor a life that has ended or to take a chance of bringing a new life into the world, but we're trusting God's sovereignty in these matters.

We'd appreciate your prayers, for all of the details related to the funeral and the IUI, for safety for my family as they travel, and for the comfort of Christ in this time of loss.

An Encouraging Reflection

Last night, we had a very encouraging care group meeting. We each answered the question, "How have you seen the Lord at work transforming your heart over the past nine or so months, and what means (circumstances, people, etc.) has he used to do so?" As I thought about how to best summarize the work God has done in me in the past year, these words from Isaiah 26:3 came to mind.

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

I spent a lot of time last year seeking to stay my mind on the Lord by studying his character. (To direct my study, I used Bible Doctrine by Wayne Grudem and Knowing God by J.I. Packer - very helpful and inspiring materials!) Studying God's character developed a greater personal trust in him. As turbulent circumstances continued to unroll - failed IVFs, changing doctors and diagnoses, a wretched HSG, the laparoscopy, etc. - I experienced a degree of steadfast peace that persisted through everything. I still felt (and feel) sorrow, fear, anxiety, but confidence in the Lord's promised goodness predominates. When I receive bad news or encounter disappointment, my soul now rebounds to God's truth much quicker than it once did. By fixing my attention on the Savior, I find that gratitude for the gospel softens and sweetens any sharp pangs of affliction. This is all a work of God's grace! I can still hardly believe that satisfaction in Christ and ongoing infertility can coexist in my life. It's not perfect, of course, but peace is abidingly present.

How about you? How has the Lord done his transforming work in your heart in recent months?

Redux: Fighting Self-Pity

Yesterday, I talked with a friend about the temptation to self-pity. After that conversation, I went back to read an old post. Remember how much this had helped me, I thought it would be worthwhile to re-post.

*************************************************************

In D.A. Carson's commentary on 1 Kings 19 in For the Love of God Vol. 1, he examines some of the ways that Elijah gives into "the despair of unfulfilled expectations." As I read that this week, I found myself really resonating with Carson's description of Elijah. Though I am not particularly tempted at this very moment, self-pity has called like a siren during this extended season of unfulfilled expectations, and I'm sure it will continue to do so. I have adapted some of Carson's thoughts into a plan to fight against self-pity.

1) Be honest about the facts (don't exaggerate). I give into self-pity when I only focus on a momentary trouble and magnify how bad it is, rather than acknowledging that there are blessings in my life as well as trials. For example, when I found out about our need to do IUI or about the cyst, my first reaction was, "Everything that can go wrong does!" While both of those were truly disappointing setbacks, my response exaggerated the problem and overlooked the many positives in our battle against infertility (only facing one hormonal problem, great doctor & nurses, excellent insurance, good response to medication, etc.). Not only that, my response overlooked the big picture of my salvation and sanctification.

2) Don't judge the hearts of others. Self-pity not only affects me, it affects how I view others. I feed my self-pity by thinking, "No one else cares. No one else understands. No one else realizes how hard this is for me." In reality, I am surrounded by people who care, who want to offer comfort, who want to help me escape from sin and trust God through this trial. I do a great disservice to those people when I judge them out of my self-pity.

3) Remember God's promises. In the throes of self-pity, my circumstances and emotions seem so much more real and true than God's word. But I can nip self-pity in the bud by having faith that God's promises (to be faithful, to do good, to sanctify me, to bless me) are true even when I cannot see them or feel them.

4) Remember that God will not always work in the obvious way I want him to. I have great ideas about how God should work - he should end this trial by letting us conceive a healthy baby! I've learned all my lessons, right? He'll get glory by answering my prayers as soon as possible, right? Seems like a good idea to me... But when I think I know best how God should work in my life, I am easily tempted to self-pity when God does not work how I expect. I need to trust that his ways are higher than mine.

5) Find others to carry part of your burden. When I give into self-pity, I tend to isolate myself. Then, it becomes that much easier to exaggerate how bad my circumstances are, to judge others as uncaring, to ignore God's promises, and to complain about God not working how I want. When I am the only human audience for these thoughts, they start to dig in deep. But if I open up to others - my husband first, and then other friends - my sin is exposed and can be addressed and corrected, my despair is lessened as others help me, and I am pointed back to my loving and trustworthy God.

I think if I can even remember one of these things when I am tempted, it would throw a big wrench into the cogs of self-pity. By the Spirit's help, I hope to be able to capture self-pitying thoughts more and more quickly as time goes on. May he "fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified" (2 Thessalonians 1:11-12)!

(originally posted on 8.18.2006)

A Laparoscopy Is Like the Sun

I've got some preparations to do for next Friday's laparoscopy. I need to have some pre-op bloodwork done. I need to buy broth and jello and non-citrus juices to consume for my required clear liquids diet the day before the surgery. And most importantly, I need to prepare my heart.

Remember the old three trees diagram? Over the past couple of days, I've been working through one to start fighting my fears about the laparoscopy.

1. heat - I am having surgery to investigate my blocked fallopian tube, and the outcome in unknown.

2. bad fruit - I am afraid of the surgery, of what the doctor will find, and of what the long term implication will be for my fertility. I am afraid of having endometriosis or of having my fallopian tube removed or of something else that will make it hard for us to ever conceive.

3. bad root - I want my fertility, and I fear even the little bit I have being taken away from me. I believe that I've already been through enough and that I shouldn't have to face another obstacle. I don't see the surgery as a potential solution but as another pitfall. I believe that I deserve an easy, happy ending to this trial. I believe that I need to have my fertility in order to be satisfied in life. I am doubting that God is with me in these things, thinking that if he really loved me he wouldn't make me go through this procedure now.

4. consequences - I dread this laparoscopy. I imagine worst-case scenarios for the outcome. I resent when others speak of the surgery in an optimistic way. I don't want the medically-best procedure to be done, but I just want whatever preserves an illusion of fertility for me.

5. the cross - The cross tells me that my status as fertile or infertile does not matter much in comparison to my status as a justified sinner inhabited by Christ (and surgery can't change that!). The cross tells me that God is with me always as Immanuel, so I don't need to fear what will happen in the operating room. The cross tells me that God is for me, that he does not put me through needless trial, and that he can work good out of even the most wicked of circumstances. The cross tells me that I actually deserve an unhappy ending and nothing but hardship, but that I have been rescued from that fate by my Savior.

6. good root - I should believe that God loves me, that he is with me, that he is exercising control over this surgery, and that he is not overloading me with trouble. I should believe that God is choosing the best path for me to have children, and if he does not choose to give me children then I will still be satisfied in Christ. I should believe that God will still be good, no matter what the outcome of the laparoscopy. I should desire God's glory above my fertility.

7. good fruit - I should not fear this surgery but trust God and take comfort in his presence with me and his love for me. I should speak more of my confidence in the sure hope of the gospel than of my anxious imaginings of what might be found wrong through the laparoscopy. I should welcome encouragement from others rather than complaining in my heart that those who are optimistic about the surgery just don't understand what I am facing. I should feel glad that this problem with my fallopian tube did not remain undetected but that God sovereignly led to its discovery.

8. consequences - I will have peace and hope, rather than fear, as I anticipate the laparoscopy. I will not cling to the vestiges of my fertility, but I will cling to my steadfast God.

Dim Shadows and Bright Hope

We live in a gap between God's promises and our reality. God gives us promise and hope, but we live in a world full of trials and disappointments. In this gap between promise and reality, our faith is cultivated. We learn to place our faith entirely in our entirely faithful God. (These words come from a message on Genesis 15 preached at our church two Sundays ago.)

This past Sunday morning, we sang the hymn "Great Is Your Faithfulness." As I sang, my heart (and my eyes) filled to overflowing with the ache of that gap between God's promises and the reality of my infertility.

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.

I don't always feel like I have the strength necessary for each day - for disappointing diagnoses, for watching other's pregnant bellies grow around me, for waiting and waiting and waiting. And bright hope for tomorrow? All I can foresee in my circumstances is dim trouble - another cycle starting, another friend's baby being born, a surgery in which I may or may not lose one fallopian tube. Blessings all mine? All? What about the blessing of children? I am too often aware of the blessings I lack, rather than the abundance of blessings I have been given in Christ.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.

There is so much more in my life that I want the Lord to provide - healing, freedom from infertility, pregnancy, children. But he provides all I need. He has given me salvation, pardoned my sins. He does give me strength for each day, grace to navigate the temptations of infertility, even if I barely make it through the rough waters by clinging to him as my life preserver. I do have bright hope - hope of heaven, hope of increasing Christ-likeness, hope of seeing my Savior face to face. I do have every best blessing in Christ. Oh, I don't always feel these things. I shed many tears over the distance between my experience and the truth of God's promises. But...

There is no shadow of turning with Thee.
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not;
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.

My circumstances toss the little boat of my soul around on waves of doubt and distress. My feelings turn me round and round like a whirlpool. My diagnosis, my expectations, change like storms. But God does not change or turn. His compassion won't fail me. The same compassion that moved him to sacrifice his Son on my behalf is extended to me today. He knows how much it hurts to live in the gap between his promises and my reality. So when the heartache seems to swamp me, I ask for new mercy to see the Lord and his word as more real than my circumstances. By faith, I will see more of his faithfulness.

Fallopian Tube: 7-14 cm; God: Infinite

The shock of the diagnosis of my blocked fallopian tube has begun to fade. Though my first reaction cried, "Why does this infertility always get worse, never better?," the fog of discouragement is clearing so that I can see that this problem is not, in fact, a fresh trouble. My awareness of it is new, but the blockage has existed all along. Now that we know of it, we can do something about it. And while I desperately don't want to lose the tube and end up with impaired fertility for the rest of my life, I know that our odds of conceiving without the tube are better than any chance of pregnancy with the havoc that the damaged tube currently wreaks on my entire reproductive system. I pray that the doctor can easily repair the tube whatever the cause of the obstruction, but I can accept its removal if the laparoscopy shows that necessity. Brilliant, this willingness to permit what I don't have any ability to change, huh?

But I also try to keep in mind that there is One who can change all of this. Emotionally, that right fallopian tube of mine has swollen to epic proportions - a giant obstacle that will block me and crush me and leave no possible escape. In faith, though, I know that this defective body part is microscopically minuscule in comparison to God's glorious grandeur. He can, if he wills, heal; this is not too big for him. So that is my other prayer right now, that the Spirit will show his power and the Lord would advance his gospel by an act of miraculous healing - that the doctor, and those who follow my story, and even my future children would get a glimpse of God's saving ability through a laparoscopy that shows no blockage, no damage whatsoever. I want to believe that such a thing is possible, and I want to surrender to the Father's will whatever happens. Please pray along those lines with me.

Little Faith

One morning last week, as I was meditating on God’s Word, I came to an answer of sorts to my questions about prayer and faith and infertility. I was reading in Matthew 17, which gives an account of an evil spirit that the disciples could not cast out.

Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, “Why could we not cast it out?” He said to them, “Because of your little faith. For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you (v. 19-20).

I had been feeling like I imagine the disciples felt in that moment – sheepish, ashamed, condemned over failures. I was slinking to Jesus furtively, secretly, to ask, “Why can’t I overcome this inability to have children? What is wrong with me that you won’t answer my prayers? Is it my fault that I haven’t gotten pregnant, because I don’t have enough faith?” Because honestly, I often do have doubts that God can or will work against the odds to cause me to conceive. Three years of infertility, three failed IUIs, and two unsuccessful IVFs loom like my own personal and implacable mountains, and my faith falters in their shadow.

As I brought these bewildered questions and struggles before God, my thoughts suddenly took a turn. When I blame myself and my lack of faith for my infertility, I make faith into a legalistic work that earns me the blessing I want. But it’s not so! Faith is a gift that I depend on the Spirit to give. Do I lack faith that the Lord will give me a child? Yes. So what should I do? Lament that my infertility is all my fault? No! I should ask for more faith! And that is just what I am now seeking to do. In fact, I’m putting a pause on my requests for children instead directing my prayers toward the gift of faith – more faith in the gospel, more faith in the good news that Jesus saves and justifies and sanctifies and satisfies, and more faith that God is sovereign and not bound by infertility statistics. And this is one prayer that I have confidence my Lord will delight to answer.