Infertility

Today is the first day of the rest of their life…

/ Hope and Dave / 1 Comment

Today was a biggie. The oldest started his senior year of high school.  Number two began his freshman year and number three became a middle-schooler.  I can sense that we have crossed a significant bridge and things have hit a new speed from here on out. I’d like to share this event from the perspective of the step-mom.

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Leading up to this morning, we were all speculating how it would feel. All through the summer I’ve had moments where I would smile internally (and sometimes let a tear of contentment leak out) as I realized next summer may be completely different. We will have one who leaves the nest and heads off to college, perhaps before we take another family vacation. The reservation for five will become four and things will feel very different. I’ve also begun to prepare for what happens after the season of raising them. When it is time for them to make their own decisions and have the liberty to choose where they spend their time and with whom.
I’ve learned a lot in the past few years about what I can expect and what I can let go of. God has given me a ton of grace to release ownership at all and understand that these boys have two parents and I am not one of them. Although the responsibility and cost is equal, the benefit of loyalty and pride belong to the biologicals. It doesn’t sting like it used to, and now that time has brought clarity, I have a peace about this fact. The reality can still blindside me at times, however, what has emerged, is the truth that I am impacting their lives in a significant way that even they cannot see.
Last night, we circled up in the living room after a great family time around the table. We held hands in a circle and waited for their father to pray for and over them for the coming school year. One by one, I laid my hands on them and prayed what the Lord laid on my heart to pray. As my spirit connected with their Creator on their behalf, I felt a release of promise and blessing. In the holy moments following that prayer time, I settled into a quiet understanding that these are the moments that are given to me to steward. These eternal moments of sowing into the fabric of their spirit, I get to play a part in their shaping that we can’t quite get our heads around.
I ache in a deep deep way for the unquestioned loyalty that a child gives their parent. I ache for the unconditional acceptance that a child willingly gives their father and mother. I cry for the hesitation I can still feel when they hug me sometimes.  I long for a day when I don’t feel the guilt for many unspoken resentments that come with blended life.  But moments like last night, when I can pronounce the things of heaven over the life of these children, go a long way to bring perspective and healing.
I love the children in my life and today has reminded me that although these babies (including nieces and nephews) may not carry my physical DNA, I can pray that one day they will carry my spiritual DNA.  I believe that their destiny will be fuller because their Hopey has prayed.
Happy New (School) Year!

The “D” Word

/ Hope and Dave / 2 Comments

Posted by Dave

D Block

As I sit here typing this, they’ve just wheeled my wife Hope back for her hysterectomy. The healing from years of struggling with infertility begins for her. Her post from several weeks ago, The M Word, chronicled this journey. She has been hesitant to share her story at times, and understandably so. If there is anything I’ve learned since we’ve been together, women who struggle with infertility deal with a deep sense of hurt and loss. Sometimes it is painful to uncover that, like when you go to the women’s clinic and you’re surrounded by baby and parenting magazines. When Hope and I began discussing marriage several years ago, I told her that I wanted to be there for her to walk through the pain that she still experienced. I had no clue what that meant then, but I now realize that the past six weeks have been that time.

If anyone can have a favorite letter of the alphabet, “D” is my favorite. Lot’s of important things in my life have happened that start with D. David is my first name, and David is my favorite person from the Bible. D is the first letter of divorce, and this seemingly negative word has shaped and changed my life. D is the first letter of my job description and the most honorable title I’ve ever held: DAD. God has blessed me with the opportunity to raise three sons, something that changed the course of my life. I don’t take the responsibility lightly, understanding that God has chosen me to be the one to launch them into manhood.

When Hope and I were dating, we waited three months before we introduced her to my boys. We didn’t take this lightly. Deep down, I wanted to get to know her character to see if I wanted her around my sons. I never take off the “Dad Hat”, so I knew that the woman I chose to have in my life would be responsible for shaping the lives of my sons. I’ll never forget the day that she met my boys. That was the day I knew I wanted her to be my wife. She was a natural with each of them, and over the next several months their response to her confirmed that she was perfectly capable of raising children. Her body didn’t work properly to give her children of her own, yet her motherly instincts are evident in all that she does.

So, not only was I chosen to be a Dad, God also chose me to be Hope’s husband. Meaning that her struggles become my struggles. Meaning that her pain becomes my pain. How do you find the place inside yourself to both be a Dad, and support the one you love who wasn’t able to have children? How do you identify with someone who desperately wanted children but couldn’t have them, and know that you were chosen to be a Dad? These questions have swirled around in my head many times. For me, I’ve discovered the answer to these questions. Another D word: DEVOTION. It is impossible for me to identify with the struggle of infertility. It is impossible for me to put myself in the shoes of someone who desperately wanted children but couldn’t have them. It IS possible for me to be devoted to her.

Being devoted means being committed, it doesn’t mean I have to come up with all of the answers. It isn’t my job to be the “solutionist”, it is my job to be her companion. Sometimes all it takes is just being there.

The “M” Word

/ Hope and Dave / 1 Comment

Mom Blocks

Posted by Hope

Why would I take my pain public? I am not the only one to face infertility. Others live with the hurt I have, and much much worse. You may read this and wonder how or why I’d say the things I say. I’m positive if you were given this same set of circumstances, you’d be a superstar and rock this job like a champ! Me, I’m like the fat kid in gym class that is horribly uncomfortable in the spandex shorts and undersized tee! It’s gonna just kind of hang out there, y’all.

So many ways to make a family in this day and time. With technology and science, there are so many ways we can blend under one roof. Let’s not forget those who chose to be defined as a family without children. I received a reaction to my statement that Dave’s boys “are not mine” in my previous post. I will expand more on that point in a later post, but for now, know that there is a healthy understanding and respect for the title “Mom”. In their life, that position is filled.

On Friday, October 10th, my doctor sat across from me and explained that due to endometriosis I need to have a hysterectomy to address the horrible pain that is plaguing me. Since I couldn’t have children anyway, to him, it made sense to move this direction. This news sent me into a tailspin for days. I couldn’t think, sleep, eat or process a rational thought without applying extreme effort. I have exactly two weeks left to process the loss of my reproductive system. There is part of me that has been begging for this day for decades. Then, there is the woman deep down inside that is grieving terribly. You see, I wanted to have children.

I’d like to think that this means there’s a countdown to the sadness and when I emerge from that hospital on December 3rd that I will have left behind all of the pain. Gone will be the days of slipping into a fantasy about what my own child would have looked like, been named, what their voice would sound like and what they would want to be when they grew up. Left behind would be the dream of them running to me with a skinned knee and being the first person to celebrate moments of discovery with. I romanticize the idea of motherhood alright. In my heart, it is sacred. In my intellect and experience, I know better. I’ve watched the reality from a distance and laughed at the comedy of my fantasy. They talk back, ruin good furniture, change your plans and sometimes end up blaming you for all the things that go wrong in their life. Inevitably, that would’ve been my kid. The Alanis Morrisette song “Ironic” comes to mind when I think about the reality of how my whole Mommy journey would’ve gone.

The fact is that I am more than my body says I am. I have more than I will ever need. I have three little boys to impact with my love. I can be an example to young women in my sphere of influence, can speak into their destinies, provide counsel, guidance and become a “mother” to many. This is truth. But there are days, like today, when the reminder of that tiny package with my DNA on it will not be handed to me. That brings me back to the dark of the soul. The ache that hurts into my bones. Its weight can feel crushing and leave me physically spent.

Supernatural things happen in this kind of grief. It is only here, in hurt like today, that I can be reminded of what is needed to get me off of the floor. It is only by the strength of God that I can walk through a day like this knowing it is just a day and that the hurt will pass and life will move forward and I will be stronger tomorrow. I can allow myself these moments to purge the pain and then exhale, straighten once again and continue the march.

What awaits me? How long will it take to heal? Will I change? Well, I guess that remains to be seen. For now, I’ll take each moment as it comes. While I wait, I worship. Regardless of my pain, regardless of my preference, I worship.