Babies, Infertility and thoughts on more

I can distinctly remember sitting in the office of our Reproductive Endocrinologist and seeing Elizabeth’s heartbeat on the screen. At 7 weeks pregnant and two miscarriages behind me the sight of the small little flicker on the screen brought tears to my eyes. And after our meeting we gave our RE a hug and it felt a bit awkward. This was the last time, hopefully, we would set foot in this office. A place where we learned of our miscarriages, hoped for babies, cried tears of sadness and joy, and became friends in a way. She must have sensed our position and gently said, “you can come back to see me when the baby is a year old or you never know, pregnancy has a way of sometimes resetting your hormones.”

Come back at a year old. All I remember thinking once Elizabeth was a year old was that I was NOT ready to go back to the Doctor. Not then and really not now. There is no part of me that wants to walk that emotionally exhausting road again. And yet, I’m not certain I do not want more babies.

The only way I can explain it is this way: When Elizabeth was given to us to be a part of our lives, we felt as though everything we asked for and wanted came to fruition. We waited and we asked for a baby. And we were given a baby. For Alex and I, we feel overwhelmed by God’s goodness to us in not only hearing but answering in way that lavishly showed His love for us.

And in my heart, somehow I just can’t make sense of how I could possibly even ask for more. It’s kind of like when you are given something you have always wanted and you are so stunned you cannot even imagine asking for more. Stunned to silence. Stunned with gratitude.

Infertility has changed me. It has made me one hundred percent acknowledge that when it comes to reproduction we play a very small role. We can plan and chart and have sex and take drugs and do this or that to better our chances. But God creates life. And He takes life.

And then around the time Elizabeth turned 15 months I began hearing friends and acquaintances talk about starting to plan for their next child. How to fund an adoption or space their children out. And I didn’t know quite what to do with what was going on in my heart. I knew that for us, for our road and our history, we couldn’t do those things. We couldn’t plan out our next child or even think about expecting another. My body didn’t work the first time and I had little hope it would work again a second time. How does one hope for something when they have been lavishing given more than they could ever ask for? And yet, this feeling began creeping up in my heart, Lord, I’m not certain I want Elizabeth to be an only child. I don’t know how to ask for more. It seems folly to even wonder or ask.

Not to mention the fact that it took a lot of medications and money and 3 long years to have Elizabeth. No doubt the Lord had us waiting for a reason and He gave when the timing was right, but the waiting. Oh the waiting was hard. And like I mentioned above I don’t even want to go there again.

So how does one ask, for something they absolutely cannot do on their own, for more abundant giving?

I’m perfectly content with Elizabeth. But there are days I grieve the knowledge that for her there may not be someone to play in the snow with or bicker with or tease her parents with.

So we’re just praying. Really not for answers or for another baby.

But for His will.

Because of how infertility has changed me, I know there is nothing I can do but leave it to Him.