As far back as I could remember I dreamt of being a wife, mother, and having a full house of kids. As I grew older, that number would shift and I knew that I wanted at least 3 kids…maybe 4. I desperately wanted the best of both worlds…. sons and daughters.
My mom didn’t have trouble conceiving and I didn’t know of anyone who did. I had zero concerns about my ability to have children. That all changed when I was dating Jeff and my doctor told me that my chances of having a child was small, it would be difficult and most likely I would need assistance. I had a surgery to help clean up some problems, but even then my chances were small.
The ideas of maybe never conceiving, infertility, adoption, etc. messed with my heart’s desire to be a mom. I even told Jeff he could break up with me if he wanted. With all seriousness, he assured me we were in this together.
When we got married, I went in for another check up and the doctor once again told me it would be difficult for us to have a child. Once again I went in for another procedure and more testing. She told me to come back in six months and we would start the infertility process. six months later, we sat in the infertility clinic and started treatments.
We shared in a previous blog about Luca and the miracle his life was. He was conceived naturally after three failed infertility treatments, and a promise from God delivered to me as I was sobbing in the shower one night.
After Luca we knew our chances were still small for conceiving naturally, so after trying for a while, we decided it was best to go back to the infertility clinic. The day before our first appointment I found out I was pregnant with Zechariah.
After Zechariah died, I wasn’t in the head space to try. It took four months to get my period back, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. This is the first time we became pregnant so naturally…honestly I still don’t understand God and His timing with that.
After we delivered Ezra, the specialist had a “let’s be real” conversation with us. A conversation that I knew was going to happen, but still wasn’t prepared for. He told us that we were lucky Ezra and I were here and we were going to be okay. He then told us we wouldn’t be that lucky next time. The chances that we would have another still born were close to 100 and the chances that I wouldn’t make it through another pregnancy were just as high.
Jeff immediately decided to sign up for a vasectomy as we knew we couldn’t chance it. My hopes and dreams of having a daughter were killed. Anger and disappointment can’t come close to the feelings I had. I spent a lot of time yelling and questioning God and if He really was a good Father. I would become bitter when I saw other moms with a full van of kids and their matching clothes with their daughters. I would question what was wrong with me, what did I do wrong, and I grieved the loss of the ability to have another child.
Through the years, I have met many woman, who like me have felt cheated out of the motherhood they thought they would have. Mothers who like me grieve the loss of being able to conceive again. Mothers who always yearned for a big family, yet feel as though their bodies and God have failed them. I don’t have answers for them. I grieve with them, pray with them, and feel deeply for them. I hold space for their questions and their pain.
I still question God. I still don’t know why He gave us Zechariah to allow him to be taken. I still don’t know why others are able to conceive so easily, yet I couldn’t. I still struggle with the reality that I will never have a daughter and that my van won’t be filled. I still struggle with the reality that my body failed me and that I had to stop trying to conceive, when all of me wanted to try again.
To be honest I am still processing a lot. I’ve thought about going back to counseling, I am more prepared and ready to unpack these things that I wasn’t ready to unpack before. I am processing not only the loss of my son, but the loss of a lifelong dream, a lifelong desire and mission.
I am so thankful for my children that I have here with me. None of what I feel means that I am ungrateful for the life I have, or the love I share with my sons. They are my world. But I am learning that I can hold space for both…. I can fully love my role as their mom while at the same time grieve an ending to a dream.
I pray that you remember that when you are grieving the loss of your dream as well. Or when you are grieving your child who is no longer here while still being a parent to the ones who are.
Finding Peace after the Storm 