Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Infertility

I don't talk much about Jason and I's inability to get pregnant. In all honesty it's not something that is on my mind very often. Don't get me wrong, there have been seasons where I have mourned it in some way or another, but as I've shared before, I don't struggle much with our infertility.
However, a few things have started to come into play, reminding me of our closed womb. First is or course the fact that Abigail has become a big girl. She wears undies, sleeps in a big bed, eats with a spoon, and doesn't want to hold my hand. Yes the fact that I don't have a baby anymore has reminded me that we can't start "trying." Mostly because we never stopped.
The other thing that has me thinking about it a little more is that we are getting ready to approach a new number of years we have been trying. We are rapidly approaching the five. And it for some reason feels like the wrap of the gavel by the judge. Like once we pass that number it's final. Now I know that you know someone who got pregnant after five, ten, and however many more years. And that's great. I know that it's not truly finality. But as this is my blog and I'm trying to explain my thoughts, it feels final.
It makes me think back to our dreams when we got married. We wanted a large family. Really. I wanted ten kids. I wanted lots of kids filling our home with laughter, life, and great chaos. I wanted the full quiver God tells us is a blessing in His word. And as the years have passed I have allowed myself to be okay with the idea of maybe having two kids.
Jason and I have talked a little about our next adoption. We have discussed adopting another kiddo with NF, and have gone back to where we were before Abigail with being open to a child with a disability. And only God knows what the future holds.
Anyway, as I was praying about all of this the other night I felt like God told me that my quiver will be full. I may not have ten kiddos like I originally hoped for, but that the needs of my children would bring me the blessing of a full quiver.
*Ahhhh* That sigh of relief. That feeling of refreshment after God so clearly reminds me that His ways are higher than mine, and that His plans are far more perfect than mine. I mean look at the beautiful little girl he brought to us. My plan was much different, but His has turned out more beautiful than anything I could've planned.

Grieving just a little,

3 comments:

  1. Andrea, thank you for replying to our blog. I want to give you some encouragement that the point of life isn't so much what our outward circumstances end up being, as whether we are open to receiving what Jesus decides He wants for us. I know from experience that it can be a long, painful struggle to get to this point of openness. But you are absolutely right that His plan is always perfect, even when it is not what we originally would have hoped for. And peace only comes with accepting His right to decide,and having the confidence that He truly loves us. He really can turn mourning into dancing.

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  2. There are a lot of things in my mind as I read this, but it's hard to put them into words. I do know that "The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me" Ps 138:8.

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  3. i know what you mean - grieving the loss of a large family. we had a plan for a large family, one with 4, 5, 6, or more kids. i got it, but 2 are alive and 6 are in heaven. our quiver is full, too, and it's full with these 2 we have. but i still grieve the loss. it's ok to grieve, sometimes it's a beautiful and painful thing.

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