This title could be deemed a bit misleading but let me share what I mean. For the past few months, we have stopped the beast that is “infertility treatments.” After three unsuccessful rounds, I turned to my husband, in a ball of tears, and said, “I need a break.” A break from the physical toll that comes with having what seems like 500000 additional hormones interacting inside of you. The emotional toll of keeping up with appointments, monitoring medication doses, trying to keep life as normal as possible for the child I’ve already been blessed with, trying to not have EVERY conversation with my husband be about this, and most of all, finding out once again that we’re not pregnant.
See how the end of that quote says “pretend you’re okay?” Make no mistake about it. We stopped infertility treatments in mid-September after we decided that maybe a break would be best. And I say that for about two weeks, I was okay. A sense of relief came over me. I equate it to me letting go and accepting what was. And then a new menstrual cycle started. And then someone asked why we were waiting so long to give Chase a sibling. And then there was a pregnancy announcement in my family. And then, and then, and then. That saying, “life stops for nothing” is all truth. Though I can bury this pain deep, it comes back with a vengeance at sometimes predictable but mostly unpredictable times.
Chase wants a sibling. He makes comments about what he would play, where they would go, what life would be like – if he had a sibling. This commentary is usually followed by THE question – “am I gonna have a brother or sister one day?” Usually my husband and I find a way around answering this question with things like “we hope so” or “yes you will, one day!” But this last time, he caught me in a moment. And the floodgate of words opened. Chase now knows the whole truth and understands it in a way an eight year old can. The amount of guilt and sadness that comes along with telling your child that there is no cause, the doctors don’t know for sure, and yes, momma and daddy still trust that God knows what’s best and what the plan is–those feelings run deep as well. I thought I could keep this away from him. Let him have the childhood he deserves, momma and daddy will take care of this. I have no idea what he’s been thinking about since this conversation a few weeks ago. And right now, I can’t ask him. But I know we’ll be coming back to it again. When we do, which side of life will we be on?
I do still have hope. Through all that is this infertility journey, my hope still rests in the fact that because God has been taking care of me for this long, He will continue to do so. Yes, I hope that we’ll be able to one day have another child. That’s the reality of what is at the end of my hope if you were to ask do I still want another child. But through everything leading up to that point OR if God says no, my hope is found in knowing that we will be okay. He has never failed us before. And because of who He is, He won’t fail us at all. We will be okay. We are blessed with our life together and I still find joy in having my two guys with me through every step in this life.
*except for our family portrait, all images used within this post were found with a Google Image search. Original artists are unknown.*