A few weeks ago, I felt a strong peace come over me about pursuing IVF. It came out of nowhere, like a sudden storm, and I knew it was the Holy Spirit. We pray about what to do with our infertility all the time. Not only do Rob and I pray, but our families and friends also constantly lift us up. I knew it was no accident that I felt this, but I simply tucked it away for a few days. This wasn't what we had planned, you see. We had decided a few months ago that this year would be a year of saving, and next fall would be the time to act. However, as it was very clear to me that God was speaking, I finally told Rob that I thought we should look into IVF sooner than we had been planning. There wasn't even a discussion about it -- he said he had been feeling the same way.
The next day, I called my doctor in Clovis and set up an appointment. It has been a year and a half since my last visit there, so I have to do another major appointment with all the initial tests and talks. It's scheduled for tomorrow, Monday, October 8, and we're hoping to find out if I'm still a good candidate for IVF, what the cost estimate is, and when I could begin the process.
It's exciting, terrifying, and all the other adjectives in between. Not doing any treatments this last year and a half has been good in many ways, lessening the physical and emotional strain. But it also feels like I'm starting all over, and that is hard. I thought that there would have been an "end" by now. I had hoped that we would have already had our baby.
And, strangely enough, starting this again throws a wrench in the groove we've finally settled into. We are never truly content with our family of two, but we have tried to be positive and recognize we have worth as a couple even if we don't have children. I'm enjoying my job, and Rob is at a great place in his ministry. Starting all over means shaking things up, and that's scary.
Finally, IVF is just plain huge. It's a huge financial, emotional, and spiritual commitment. It's something I recognize we cannot do without the support and love of our family and friends. That means that people need to know, and that means that people will ask, and that means that we'll have to share news, even if it's heartbreaking. It's hard to allow others to bear that burden with us, and it's hard to open myself up to that vulnerability when so much of our struggle is private and personal.
So, tomorrow is a big day. There are all sorts of unknowns, and my stomach is in knots just thinking about it. Providentially, yesterday when we got home, there was the latest newsletter from Stepping Stones on my counter. The cover article is called "A River of Optimism." I love what the author wrote:
The hope of a Christian is not just positive thinking; it is absolute certainty about who God is, His goodness and love, and ultimately, His plan of salvation in my life. While the path I am walking is certainly not one I would choose--maybe one I will never understand, already filled with heartaches and disappointments--I know that I will ultimately not be disappointed. This is not because God answered my every prayer according to my wishes but because He drew near to me in my time of deepest need and loves me with an unfailing and sufficient love.
I don't know how any of this will turn out. I may find out I'm not a good candidate for IVF anymore. We may be overwhelmed by the cost. We may go through the process unsuccessfully in countless different ways. But I am certain, as that author wrote, about who God is, His goodness and love, and ultimately, His plan of salvation in my life.