My Silent Heartache and Finding Joy in Infertility

I gave up on life dozens of times. How does a firm believer in Jesus just give up on life? 
Pain. A pain so deep that you don’t have a description for the ache inside your heart. There were moments I hurt so deep that I actually thought my heart was going to stop beating. There were moments I wished that it would. Someone can relate to that. 
How could a God that loved me so much let me hurt that way? It forced me to question that love and if it even existed. 
I am a believer, yes. The reason I believe in Him is for another time but I will say this; I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t allow Him to heal me. I don’t have an earthly dad, God is my dad and that relationship is real special to me. 

My journey began in 2007. There were just a couple of people that knew we were trying to have a baby. It didn’t take long before I refused to talk about it. Eventually hidden from pretty much everyone we knew, we entered the barren decade.

It was 2007, we were just married. We were ready to get life going and we started trying for the “dinner table full of kids” we both wanted.
Now, unless you have been through a lengthy stay of infertility, 10 years is probably hard to imagine. Please don’t think you can’t relate based on the time. The disappointment is the same for all of us and it deserves it’s due attention. Time means nothing when your heart is on the floor and you don’t have the strength to pick it up.

After 6 months of trying, we went to my doctor who said, it wasn’t abnormal to not have gotten pregnant right away and when you’ve tried for a year without having a positive test, come back and we will discuss what’s next. So, we did just that and after a year we went back and entered what I call the longest time in history of all histories. The beginning wasn’t hard, I rolled with the punches and thought, this is just what people do. 
One year became two, I got discouraged and needed a break. Two became five… five became seven and I thought, this is never going to end. What did I do to deserve this? 

I could come up with a thousand reasons why God would think I’m not worthy of being a mom. In my flesh, I believed there had to be a reason. Im a logical thinker, an analyzer if you will and a bit of a world problem solver, if given a minute to plan it all out. I don’t take the unknown very well and the infinity wait that is sometimes, Christianity, hahaha. 
None of the reasons I gave myself were acceptable simply because it didn’t result in pregnancy and if you have the personality of a “fixer”, at some point you fix it and possess what you’ve been working toward. 
It wasn’t until year 7 that the doctor at the clinic I was going to talked about something that helped me cope. (This was a different clinic. I had taken one of my many breaks in this the ten year mess that was infertility. When I entered the boxing ring again, the office I was a patient at had closed down so, we started at a new one). The Doctor at this clinic is probably one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met. After about a year she said this to me; “you’re grieving. Every month you don’t conceive, you are grieving a loss [of life].” My God, did those words bring so much comfort at the same time of complete heartache. I just remember sobbing. I don’t even think I spoke that day… or I did, it was just an enormous amount of tears. Having someone give me words to describe how I was feeling was somewhat peaceful. At least I could take this word “grief” and try to deal with it the best way I could. 
Every month that my bloodwork came back “abnormal” and we had to toss the month, I felt grief.
Every day that I had to stick myself in the belly with a needle, I felt grief.
Every failed IUI (and insurance only covers 6), I felt grief. 
Every month that I got a negative test result, I felt grief. 
The miscarriages, even more grief.

I went through every stage of processing. I was once full of faith, believing my Dad was going to heal me. I also had times where I was content even if I couldn’t explain. And, I went through times where I waked into work ready to quit my job, life, and everything that went with it. I gave up on “being”. Thankfully it was temporary. My Dad knew how low I had gotten and didn’t let me stay too long in that place. I was always brought back to the “fight”. 

After 9 years of trying, we sat down with the doctor to discuss IVF. I didn’t speak, I just sobbed uncontrollably. I can guess that it had a lot to do with feeling let down by God. The promises I believed He spoke to me, the plan I believed He had for us, the sheer disappointment that I had after ten years and, the toll that it had taken on me. The grief filled every inch of my being. I was devastated to say the least. That poor doctor tried talking to me… I just never responded. I couldn’t. 

IVF is expensive. It is bank-breaking, budget-exploding, inconceivably expensive and, there was just no way. Not to mention the process of egg retrieval and all the technical things that went with it. I shook my head no. I told my husband no on the way out. I refused. We left and I cried for days.

Why God? Loans? Money we don’t have? Everyone I know can get pregnant by saying it and many complained it “happened again”!
I shook my fist at my Creator more times than I could count.
I am an internal processor. I don’t call my girlfriends to get through very personal things in my life which is why my relationship with the only Father I’ve ever had is so important to me. I took every one of those devastating moments and went to my Dad in anger and in pain. I went with every pleading cry I had in me. I had questions I never got answers to, holes in my heart that got so increasingly difficult that I couldn’t bring myself to go into public sometimes. Pictures of pregnant women on an insurance billboards made my entire body sink into the ground I was walking on. It had started to affect me physically every single time.
No one knew. Just me and my husband who so patiently walked by my side. I was in such a deep place of pain that I couldn’t see his. I wasn’t the only one in this… he was battling too and I didn’t have room in my heart to hold it or allow him to share it. He’s a good man.

But God. He really carried us. He kept us close. I barely spoke but, I know our marriage was strengthened. We bonded in pain without words. He brought us together and we have never been closer. 
Long story short, he made a way financially. I took loans out and we trusted Him with it. He blessed us that year and we were able to pay off the $19,000 debt that IVF cost in just 12 months. 

In 2017 we had our daughter. When I say she has filled every hole i had in my heart, I mean it. I feel whole. I feel complete. I feel like He’s restored me. He’s taken every ounce of pain and turned it into the love I have for this little human today. 

Why am I sharing this? A few reasons. 
One important reason is to say that it’s okay to be sad. It’s actually okay to go through the wide array of emotions needed to process it, even if you look “crazy”. Grieve. 
The second and probably the most important is to tell you that you’re not alone and you don’t have to do this alone. If I did, I can assure you I wouldn’t have survived it. I would have destroyed my marriage, walked away from this life and all I’ve been given. God loves me more than I love my daughter and that is hard for me to wrap my head around. He carried us during our darkest times… even when I told Him that He was the worst. He grieved with us. His heart broke when mine did, every single time. 
The last and most crappy reason is because I received my meds today for round 2. I have babies on ice and although it only costs half as much as the first time, I am reminded of how I can’t just conceive on my own. 
I almost threw up when I saw the size of some of the needles. 
I hate that this is my fate. 
Finding joy in this is really hard. 
I want to be grateful that this is how it happens because it means that it happens. But, I’m also like “why does it have to be so hard?”.

Joy in tough seasons is difficult. But, it’s a season and a short time in the overall scheme of life. Let’s embrace it. 

I am constantly reminded of how He’s always there… even if He is silent, He is there. 
We can’t say that about many people… and situations always change. People always change. Our Dad, never changes. 
He is the epitome of security. He is why that word exists.

We can alter the plan He has for us based on decisions we make but, He will always make a new plan and I don’t believe for one second that it’s not as good as the last. We don’t get penalized for “missing” it. He doesn’t punish us because we didn’t get it the first 13 times. 
He is gentle.
He is patient.
His promises are His promises and they are the same today as they were yesterday. Don’t lose hope, keep fighting. If you want to be a mom, don’t let any obstacle stand in your way. There is always a way. 

“Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭6:21‬ ‭

That’s just the flag on the tip of the ice berg, wait until I tell you about our first thanks giving together. Let’s just say we needed a fire extinguisher. Here’s to the beginning of a journey filled with old junk, new crap, food, wine and, lots of tears. I would love for you to come along with me.

With His Love,

Jennie Blackstone