Nothing much to report, IVF-wise. We are in a lull at the moment, not taking any particular medications. I am loving it :). I'm finding it really easy to switch off and forget it's all happening - am loving 'savouring the moment' (a phrase my counsellor loves!) and taking the time to enjoy all that we have together. I feel really OK about IVF at the moment. I feel OK knowing that this may lead to a child or it may not. I feel OK knowing that things might happen that I do not understand. I feel able to trust God in the way that I used to, and am really enjoying being in a good place with Him. I feel close to Him again, and that is the most important thing for me. Feeling distant from Him over the summer was like losing a limb, all felt so wrong with the world.
The feeling of hope I wrote about last week hasn't left. I've really enjoyed it's presence; it's like a curtain has been lifted, and I can see through to all the stuff beyond, which is all sparkly and lovely. I am standing in the open doorway to a jewellers, and everything inside is already mine. The future seems really exciting, and I'm not thinking anywhere near as much as usual about whether we will have children or not. I am thinking about it, in relation to IVF and the fact that we are about to undergo our first cycle, but I've stopped obsessing all the time about whether I am going to be 'picked' to have children. It no longer feels like waiting to see if I've made the team. I've already made the team. I've already got the good stuff.
It's almost exactly six years at the moment since this whole journey began. That's important to me. Six years ago, I was sick, wondering if I had a brain tumour or MS, and wondering what my life was going to look like. I was so scared. I didn't know God, and I didn't feel loved. I read a book called 'The Time Traveller's Wife'; I stayed up all night to finish it; and God planted the desire in my heart to bear a child. I didn't know Him then, but that sweet and precious moment was as magnificently Him as anything since.
I didn't not want to have children because I don't like children, or didn't yearn to be a parent. I didn't not want children primarily because I was afraid of labour, or because I was worried about the genetic condition I knew I carried, although these both played a part. I didn't want to create children because I was brought up to believe that the world is coming to an end, well within my lifetime, and I was very angry that my parents, believing this, had chosen to have my brothers and me. When I looked at my half-brother, who's ten years younger, I didn't understand how anyone could choose to create something so innocent knowing what they did about our world. At this time I believed the things my father taught absolutely.
I always wanted to parent. I guess that started when my half-brother came along - I had no idea the depth of love I could feel. He is and always has been so special to me, and to all our family. So I had this deep desire to parent, combined with a sense of anger about the world (and the choices my parents had made) and a passion for social justice, and I decided I would adopt. That way I wouldn't be responsible for bringing the life into this broken world. I was actually terrified of falling pregnant and going into labour long before I was sexually active. My whole life was a mess of fear.
And so, when God planted that dream in my head, it said so much more than 'Seek to bear a child'. It said, 'It's ok to dream', and specifically, 'It's ok for you to dream'. It said, 'You don't have to punish yourself for the sins of the world'. It said, 'You have a hope and a future' (because, ultimately, my choice not to have children came out of a belief that there was no future for me at all). It said, 'Walk with me'.
When I had this special moment with God about bearing my own child - during which I saw a vision of a little boy, toddler age - I was still completely uneducated about the condition I carry. I didn't even know it's name! And so, as a result of this hope and vision, I asked to be referred for genetic counselling.
Eight months after that moment with God, I found out that the odds of me having an affected pregnancy were 1/2, and my world fell apart. That tentative hope I had been offered had been snatched away, and it was worse - much, much worse - than not having it at all. Everything changed, and everything grew much darker. I lost hope.
Over the years since that initial moment with God six years ago, I have tried to walk away and give up hope so many times. Each time, I have been offered a morsel; an offer so supernatural I remember God, and remember that this is not in my hands. He has spoken to us (and particularly to me alone - which is important to me, as I was the one to doubt the procedure) so clearly, and in so many ways, about doing IVF PGD that I have to trust and keep walking. Maybe we will have a child, and maybe we won't. But either way, I know that the only hope I have ever been offered is in the Lord. For the girl who had no hope, making that decision is a no-brainer. I go where He takes me, and I trust in His ways. Who am I to think I would have no life without children, or no hope without children? He gave me hope from dust and ashes before!
When I think back over the journey I've been on these long six years, I am reminded of how little hope rests in our physical circumstances. Six years ago, the world was just opening up for me, and yet I had never known hope. It took a miracle for me to taste hope - a drastic intervention by Jesus in my life. My physical circumstances may change with time, but nothing can take away that hope Jesus gave me. He will always be.
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