One of the Hard Days

This post isn't an easy one to write, and it may not be an easy one to read. But, when I started sharing about my PCOS and subsequent issues I said I was doing it in hopes to a.) remove the stigma associated with fertility issues, and b.) possibly help someone else who may be going through the same thing. how can I do that if I don't share the good, the bad and the ugly?  So today I will share with you one of my worst days throughout this process.

One night around my birthday I was blindsided with news of an unexpected pregnancy. I can't begin to explain all of the facts surrounding this pregnancy, but it was 100% unplanned, partially unwanted, and could turn out to be a very unhealthy situation. And, in my human mind, I instantly began to scream out to God about the injustice. Injustice to me, injustice to the expecting parents, injustice to the baby. 

I was home alone with William on this particular night. Austin was working late that entire week and had been getting home around 10:00. So, I had to do my best to hold my composure long enough to get William bathed and into bed before completely losing my mind. My efforts failed, though, as I found myself crying uncontrollably while William played in the bath. Then, to dig the dagger a little deeper, William and I had this conversation:

Mommy what's wrong?

Don't worry baby, mommy is just sad.

Is it my fault?

No, baby, it is not your fault.

Is it because I went peepee in my pants?

No William, you could never make me this sad by going peepee in your pants. You didn't do anything wrong, it's not your fault that I'm sad.

Is it Dada's? (--dada did play a role, but I was not about to project that onto our child)

No, it's not Dada's.

Is it Jesus's fault?

Now, I WANTED so badly to scream 'yes! Yes it is Jesus's fault!' But by God's grace I had one tiny shred of self control as I told William that no, it was not Jesus's fault. The he asks,

Is it William Timothy Blair's fault?

The knife kept twisting.  It was an agonizing evening and I felt more alone than I have felt in my entire life. I felt isolated from Austin, I reached out to a friend only to feel more alone, and I could not seem to pull myself together for the sake of my son. I was a wreck.

After I finally got him to bed I went to bed myself. At 8:15 I crawled into bed and cried. I held my phone the entire time, trying to think of who I should reach out to, but unable to make myself call on a friend. I know there are dozens of people who would have loved to have answered that call on that night, but I didn't even have the strength to do it. I already felt isolated by 3 people in this very situation, I wasn't willing to put myself out there again. 

Then, about 45 minutes into my sob-fest, my phone buzzed. A text message from my cousin. Chelsea and I talk fairly regularly, but we hadn't talked in a few days at that point. She was just texting to say hi and happy early birthday. Why was she texting to say happy early birthday? Why not just say happy birthday on the actual day? Well, the worldly answer is that she didn't want to forget and it was on her mind. The Godly answer, though, is that Jesus wanted to use her to reach me. He knew I needed support and above all I needed Him, so He used my cousin as a vessel.

We talked about randomness for a little while and then when I was ready I told her how I felt Jesus had called her to contact me to help me in that moment. I began to tell her the story of my evening and how I got to the point of crying alone in my bed. At the end of it I told her that what I really wanted to say when William asked if it was Jesus's fault was, 'yes, it is. Jesus has the power to change this and He hasn't because just like Austin, He has abandoned me'

Now, I know that to not be true. About Austin and about Jesus. But on that night I wasn't so clear. I was vulnerable and satan used that to get to me, as he so often does.

My cousin's reply, instantaneous and strong was, 'He will never leave you. Deuteronomy 31:8'

That's all she said, but that's all I needed.

That was by far the ugliest day I've had throughout this ordeal, maybe in my life. I don't know that I've ever felt like Jesus had deserted me like I did that night. The feelings of failure and inadequacy coupled with solitude can be very powerful and painful. I felt inadequate in so many ways, and if I could sum up infertility with one word that would be it; inadequate.

But that was also a turning point in this journey for us. After Austin got home that night we talked about the role he played and how his efforts to protect me really came across as him abandoning me. I know that was never his intention and all he wanted was to shield me from pain. He knows, now, that he can't shield me from the pain that will come with this. All he can do is hold my hand through it. It wasn't until that night that we were able to truly walk together in this rather than as two people who were hurting. 

We are still hurting. We are still lost as to why this is God's plan for us. But we are hurting together, which makes the world of a difference.