Monday, October 10, 2011


*If you haven't done so, please read yesterday's post Puzzling, in order to fully grasp the story behind today's post.

Have I lowered my expectations of God?

I tell people that God can do anything. And I believe that he can. In their lives. I've witnessed miracles in other people's lives, and even in my own. I've witnessed my grandfather, whom doctor's told us wouldn't make it through the night, live another 11 years. I've witnessed a good friend's daughter, born very, very early not only survive the first few weeks of her life, but thrive as a happy 5 year old. I've witnessed a wreck that changed my husband's life, not completely destroy him.

Yet I'm not 100% sure that I haven't "given up". I didn't get the results that I wanted, so I just assumed that it wasn't meant to be. That it wasn't the way that things were planned to go. That the grand design of my life, just meant I wasn't supposed to have a child of my own.

Instead, today, I'm questioning whether I gave up. If I simply got tired of the drugs, the emotions, the everything and gave up.

After debating about it, I know that I was the one who lowered their expectations. I know that after the 3rd round of drugs (and the craziness that went with that) that I was tired. I was beaten, I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand to do the treatments. They had taken a toll emotionally, physically, mentally and financially. I was tired. I was tired of hoping for a miracle, praying that this month would be "the" month. I was tired.

To be honest, I'm not even sure my marriage would have survived. We were both so tired of performing and we were so drained financially that it wasn't even funny. I think that my head knew that my heart needed a break. That I needed to figure out what Plan B was going to be. Because let's face it. There wasn't ever an option for Plan A to not go as planned. We were going to get pregnant. There simply hadn't been any other alternative. Then when Plan A wasn't going the way I envisioned it, I just didn't know what to do or where to go anymore. I didn't even know who I was anymore.

So for months I wallowed in self pity. I had gained weight, I couldn't give my husband the child that he wanted, I was useless. It took months to crawl out from under that. It took months for me to realize that I had more to offer than my ability to get knocked up.

Did I quit believing that God could perform miracles? No. I just didn't believe that He was going to hand one out in our case. I didn't believe that I was going to get pregnant.

Did I lower my expectations? Maybe. I honestly don't know. I know that in the weeks and months, and even as I type this, I wonder if I gave up too easily. I wonder if I quit fighting. I'll always have that to wonder about though. Would one more treatment have done it? Would something different have done it? I don't know. I probably won't ever know the answers to those questions.

I know I stopped hoping. That I gave up. But unless you've been there done that, you can't begin to imagine the hope that you put out while you wait on hold for the results of a blood pregnancy test. I held my breath. I gripped the phone, I prayed. I begged, I tried not to cry. I tried to imagine getting the good news. Instead of the apologetic voice on the other end of the phone telling you that your results were negative that they would transfer to scheduling to set up your next appointment. Now, I can imagine how much those people who scheduled those appointments hated their job. Because I know that I can't be the only one who choked back tears while they were on the phone.

My expectations weren't met, but they certainly don't feel like they have been lowered.  Instead I feel like they are higher now than they were then.

I had to come up with Plan B. I had to figure out how I was going to spend the rest of my life now that I wasn't going to have a child's needs to deal with.

My expectations today, are high. I expect a lot out of myself. I expect to get good grades in school. I expect to study hard. I expect to help cook dinner. I expect my husband to be there to cheer me on. If any of that doesn't happen, I will certainly be disappointed, but at the same time, most of those, the fault is with me. I don't expect God to drop a baby on my doorstep (a million dollars yes, a baby, no(kidding)). I don't expect to ever get pregnant. If I do it will be a miracle. And I'm pretty sure that if it's going to happen, it will be a miracle.

The only thing I think I lowered is hope. I have forgotten how to fully hope and believe that something will work out the way I want it too. I just can't find it in myself to hope. At least for a baby.

Even though my hope is definitely lower, my expectations of getting pregnant are too. However, I do know, that if by some miracle I were to get pregnant, God would be the only one who had anything to do with it.

1 comment:

  1. Maybe someday you will know that it's time to go back to Plan A. We both know I live with a miracle so I won't stop expecting one for you. Love you sweet friend.



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