Tuesday, January 22, 2008


Forgive me as I blubber my way through this. I have no idea what the end result of this post but I feel the intense need to start writing down everything going through my head and heart, so here I go...

I do want to update but there's no good place to put it so I'll start with it and then get in to everything else. Thank you for praying for my illness. I am still sick but I no longer have the fever or the stomach issues and aside from some congestion and fatigue, I'm significantly better. I think a few more days of rest and fluids will see me back to my old self again and in the mean time, things are very bearable.

Back to the thoughts at hand.

Last night I was stewing and I came upon my scrapbook stuff. I've created several scrapbooks over the years, enjoying the creative process and the art of creating but relishing all the more dreams about all the stories I'd tell our children and grandchildren about us and their grandparents and their great grandparents. Last night I was feeling low and in a impulsive moment, decided that the scrapbooks didn't matter and no one would ever care about them because I'd never have anyone to pass them on to. Of the losses of infertility, loss of a legacy was one I hadn't really struggled with or considered before now. Fortunately I did not act on this and they still sit, collecting dust on the bottom shelf of my bookshelf.

Then today I sat and thought of our soon-to-be-born Godson, I cried. I was scouring the internet for patterns and how to videos for knitting or crocheting a baby blanket for him--something I always wanted to do for my own first born. But as I thought about it, I couldn't help but pour my own heart full of the thoughts I wanted to pour in to my own baby's blanket. The love and tears and dreams. I wanted to tell him about all the love in my heart for the child that may never be. I wanted to tell him how much I can't wait to be his honorary auntie. I wanted to tell him that in the absence of my own little heart to love, my heart is full for him and I can't wait to see his little face. I wanted to tell him how much I love his momma and daddy and how lucky he is to have them as his parents. I want to tell him that I can't wait to want his dreams for him and though I can wait an eternity for his heart to break, I want to be there for that too. I want to commiserate with his momma when she's exhausted and cheer with her when he says his first word or gets his first "A" in school. I want to tell him how sorry I am that we may never give him the playmate we 4 (us and his parents) always always wanted for him. (Who am I kidding-we wanted to give him a wife and seal this deal for good ;) ). That darned baby blanket does not even exist yet and already I've smothered my face in to it and bathed in my tears of both joy and sorrow.

Those tears were good. I felt like I went through a good mourning exercise as I processed my thoughts about the soft blue and white blanket that is so much prettier in my dreams that it will ever be in person, provided I can even muster the strength and skill to create it. I had in my head the image of holding that soft fabric in my hands and gently pressing my face into it to smell it and then sobbing quietly. And slowly, that image of that blanket was replaced with the hem of the cloak of Jesus. And I pressed in my face even deeper and breathed deeply of the sweet fragrance of Christ and thanked Him for his healing power in my heart.

I've spent some time in the last few days watching a Beth Moore DVD loaned to me by my sister in law. Anyone who knows me knows that I am *not* a Beth Moore fan. But the subject matter interested me so I asked her if I could borrow it and she mailed it to me. I was thinking today about how much I was pleasantly surprised by the study and even contemplating things I wanted to come here and share.

No sooner was my heart delighting in all those workings of God in the last couple days then my heart was under siege again. Out of nowhere I was thinking of those darn scrapbooks again and the Enemy taunted me with thoughts "You will never leave a legacy. Stop wasting your time. You could die tomorrow and never be missed. Who are you kidding?"

And I confess, I was weak to those thoughts and their lies and quickly I was feeling sorry for myself and for my DH. But God, ever faithful and ever gentle, was quick to rescue me...again. Does anyone ever feel like that's the story of their life? Don't get me wrong--I never want to be in a place where I feel I don't need God, but I do wish I didn't fail Him quite so often.

Anyway, He brought to my heart the song "Legacy" by Nichole Nordeman. And then he brought the J family to my heart. They're a family from the church in which I grew up. I'm about equidistant between the ages of the parents and the kids in the family. S and R (the parents) mentored and loved me throughout my youth and even still in to my adulthood and I poured in to their kids. I love this family with my whole heart and they have a role in my life unlike anyone else. I can't wait to see them when I go home for visits and my heart swells with pride to see the remarkable young adults the kids have grown to be. How privileged I have been to share communion with this family! It occurred to me that I don't share a shred of DNA commonality with these people and yet S and R have left a forever legacy on my heart, and hopefully I've at least left a little one with their kids. They've set the example of love and faithfulness for me, and I realized how much I would have been cheated if I had been denied relationship with them because we're not blood related. How beautiful and rich is it that the family of God is one of adoption and not of biology! I've often pondered that on a cerebral level but tonight it was stirred fresh in my heart.

Tonight I'm tired. Open heart surgery is exhausting! But, I feel like a page has been turned and I'm filled with wonder and a little bit of anxiety and a touch of fear when I consider what this new chapter will look like. I think it's still appropriate to grieve and to acknowledge the losses in this process and to take a moment when the events of life knock the wind out of me. But I hope to begin tomorrow with a fresh perspective. I want to look for the opportunities God does have for us, instead of spending so much time grieving for the ones He has, in His vast plan, chosen to deny. I can't really remember the last time, if ever, I thanked Him for any part of this journey. I've thanked Him for the relationships I've developed such as the deepened relationship with my Sister in Law and with C from church, but I've always placed the infertility itself in its own mental trashcan, awaiting pickup any day. So, I confess this sin of selfishness and ingratitude, and those days when I think I know better. I'm thankful for His patience with me and for His precision in exacting His work in my heart. Slowly but surely, the garbage is being cleaned out, but it's been found in the filing cabinets of perceptions and dreams and entitlements and ideas and attitudes I've held on to for far too long and not in the pile of circumstances I'd mentally discarded as worthless.

I don't know what this new day will look like but I pray that my heart is filled with gratitude and patience as He reveals it to me.

I want to leave you with this song. I pray it encourages you the way it did me.


  1. This is the hardest part of infertility. And it's one you can't always put into words and people don't understand often. Dear I love you and I'll continue to pray and keep you close to my thoughts.

  2. Thank you for expressing this. It is never easy, but always good.

    Mourning the loss of something you never had is very hard. There is no 'thing' to express yourself to, no object to see or touch. I think that is why the blanket moved you so much.

    I was helped by the worship song "In Christ Alone" which has the line "no guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me. From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny".

    Although the writer meant it to be about fearing judgement, to me it was about the fear of not leaving a legacy (a child), and the guilt of condemning my wife to the same fate as me (male factor).

    I will be praying for you

  3. I agree that God is amazing in His comfort when you need it most.

    I think focusing on the positive is definitely one of the hardest parts about infertility (as a violet said too) and is a daily battle. I wish we didn't have to fight that battle but I wish you strength and endurance in it.

    I have to hope that eventually God will either give us the desires of our hearts or give us some peace so that it doesn't continue to be a daily battle forever. Maybe just weekly, monthly or God allow it...yearly!

    Praying for you!


  4. Your post and the song made me cry. I wish no one had to go through this.

    I too have mourned the loss of a legacy. It might seem silly, but I also just really want to see what a child with my husband would look like. The song reminded me, though, that how many biological children we leave here has nothing to do with the legacy that God cares about. Maybe our genes won't carry on, but that's such a wordly thing. It's sometimes hard to convince myself of this though.

    Thanks for your post.