The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower. I will call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the floods of ungodly men made me afraid…In my distress I called upon the LORD, and cried unto my God: he heard my voice out of his temple, and my cry came before him, even into his ears…. For thou wilt light my candle: the LORD my God will enlighten my darkness. For by thee I have run through a troop; and by my God have I leaped over a wall. As for God, his way is perfect: the word of the LORD is tried: he is a buckler to all those that trust in him. For who is God save the LORD? or who is a rock save our God? It is God that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way perfect. He maketh my feet like hinds’ feet, and setteth me upon my high places….The LORD liveth; and blessed be my rock; and let the God of my salvation be exalted……
If you haven’t heard…
Well, I guess we never officially documented on our blog what happened next with our embryo adoption. I’m sure most folks got emails, got a phone call, saw on Facebook, or just heard through the proverbial grapevine that Doug and I lost the two embryos that were implanted November 17.
I’m not going to kid anyone by saying that the last few weeks haven’t been rough. They have been really difficult. We tried to anticipate how we’d feel, think, react to hearing bad news, but really how do you prepare yourself? I had done my best to occupy my mind during that time of waiting to know the condition of the embryos. I worked super hard to not let my mind dream or imagine life with those babies. Here and there the dreams crept in. And even when I wasn’t actively conjuring up thoughts of more children, it seemed I often awoke in the mornings realizing I had been dreaming in my sleep.
We lost a baby when Audrey was about 13 or 14 months old and it was difficult. This was difficult, too, but in a different way. For months we had been preparing for these lives. We had chosen them specifically, we had paid a good deal of money for them, and the journey was just so different. Although I tried to balance my hopes against the realistic statistics; there was a different sense of excitement and hope with this adoption. It was something new, something we hadn’t tried before.
Losing the babies has challenged every thought, motive, prayer, desire and feeling. I’m tremendously grieved that we cannot seem to grow our family. But now, I have this unclear sense of guilt – feeling like I stepped in and cause the death of 4 innocent little lives. I know that’s not reality and truth, but it’s a temptation that wiggles its way into my tired brain. Those 4 lives had no better chance if we had not stepped in and attempted to rescue them.
The desire for children never stemmed from a desire to be loved, to have fun, to give Audrey a playmate, or in order to exercise some prideful influence on a moldable life. We want children to give God glory. We want to teach a child who God is, what man’s responsibility is, and to ultimately find salvation, and consequently bring others to God as well. So, I do know, that God did answer my prayer. These children, we called our own, were given the fast track to heaven! They were spared some of the wickedness of this world, and the battle to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him. I can find comfort that they are with their Creator today, in new bodies, giving Him all the glory!
I have my moments.
I have weak moments when I question my sovereign God. But make no mistake about it, I am the one in the wrong! Joy, peace, thankfulness, and praise should be my only response. For although I don’t perfectly understand all the far-reaching effects this loss will take in my life, I can have complete confidence that God meant it for good and has already granted me all that I need to thrive.
I have moments of tears. Moments I don’t feel like talking about it. Moments I feel I need to just weep, and talk, and weep and talk. It’s been a lonely few weeks. I think many think of it as just a roadblock in our adoption process and either don’t acknowledge our pain, or misunderstand our loss. I think others are just so confused by the process of adopting embryos that they don’t really stop to ponder and weigh out the significance and meaning – that losing embryos, is losing unborn children. Maybe the reason some folks haven’t said a word, is because they hurt so much for us and they don’t even know what to say that will help. So I must assume the best of folks and not give in to another temptation this trial has brought upon us.
So where do we go from here?
We continue – with happy hearts! We know that God is working patience and maturity in us. We know that He gives wisdom. As has been our routine for so many years now, we make decisions as circumstances change, reassess if we need to change our game plan and ask God again if we should just stop.
Right now we feel confident in our plan to try again in January. We have started the ball rolling to redo the procedure mid to late January. We will soon be choosing new embryos and switching up the medicine routine to get my body ready to accept the embryos in their stage of development.
We go into this next try with some hope, but in a way, not as much the first time around! I know how bad the medicines make me feel, so I am somewhat dreading it. And the anticipation/excitement of a new option has worn off. And there is more fear this time – we know how wretched it is when the babies don’t survive. Financial concerns are slighted more elevated this time. Although some fees don’t need to be repaid, we do owe more money. Having already paid a great deal the last few months combined with Christmas expenses, there’s a greater potential for worry. But, we stand resolute that God will provide for our needs.