I’ve come to the realization that I am a horrible blogger - which probably comes as no surprise to anyone who happens to glance at the date of my last entry. I've had a number of things to share, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do so until now. Here’s a summary of the events that have transpired since August of 2015:
Now that my blog is current, I can officially say that blogging is NOT my thing. I may still post from time to time, but my only consistent writing will likely be novels (and maybe Facebook).
Exactly one year ago today, I lost the ability to bear children. After a 15-year battle with fibroid tumors, multiple abdominal surgeries, a late-term miscarriage, and many months of hoping … a pregnancy is simply no longer an option for me. That realization would have left me devastated five years ago, but today … not so much.
It’s been an interesting journey. I started out with absolutely no desire to have children, only to discover that my husband had other ideas. Was that something we should have discussed before the wedding? Absolutely. I shared my thoughts with him, but for some reason, he thought I would change my mind. Did I? Absolutely - although I don’t recommend our “tie the knot and hope it changes” method of planning for the future. Two years into our marriage, I was dealing with a host of reproductive issues which ultimately lead to infertility.
I’ve received tons of advice from a lot of well-meaning people over the last ten years:
Just do in vitro … Try acupuncture … You just need to have more faith …
Stop trying so hard … Just lose weight … Just do yoga ...
Just take vitamins … Just use a surrogate …
All you need to do is ask God … It’ll happen, you’re a good person …
Sometimes I appreciated their attempts to help (although I did not appreciate the lady from church who told me that I could get pregnant without a uterus if I really believed in God), but more often than not, I was just frustrated because I was unsure of the path that God had for me. We decided against fertility treatments early on, so I prayed about it regularly (in spite of what that lady from church thought), and went on with my life. I went back to college, I discovered a passion for social work, and we parented teens in foster care.
In hindsight, I can see that this was the path that God had for us. During the journey, I developed a desire to help abused and neglected kids. At times it’s been frustrating and terrifying, but I was able to get through it because He gave me the heart to do so. He also gave me a better understanding of abusive parents. I still get upset with parents who mistreat their children, and sometimes I lose it when kids are treated as an afterthought or an inconvenient consequence of an old relationship. The difference is I’m learning to have more compassion for people – even those who behave badly.
Today is an unusual anniversary for me because instead of grieving like I expected, I'm actually feeling optimistic. I have no idea of what the future holds, but some of my paths are becoming more clear and it's allowing me to breathe much easier.