A couple weeks ago Little Man and I were cruising into town to go to RISE and jamming to our usual PAGE CXVI, in hopes that it would lull him into a deep travel slumber. Instead it was me that got lulled into a deep travel sob. One of the lullabies was Do, Lord an old hymn. Tears leaked from my eyes and stuck to my cheeks as the song words swirled throughout the car begging to be remembered.
Do you remember me?
Have I been forgotten?
Infertility has the trick of making you feel broken. Lying to you that the reason you can't get/stay pregnant is that you are broken and God does not want to fix you. You have been forgotten. I laid on the couch at 9 weeks pregnant already on bed rest with a subchorionic hemorrhage. We were not of to a good start. A group of friends gathered around and "laid hands" on me to pray for me and baby. This is awkward for me. The denomination I grew up in did not do this much. I feel silly. I doubt. I am cynical. I wonder. And in that moment I desperately searched my heart and genuinely asked God to help me overcome my disbelief, begging him to remember me.
That night I miscarried.
"O God my rock," I cry, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I wander around in grief, oppressed by my enemies?"
Thanks David for finding the right words. Here I am, wandering around in grief and oppressed by my damn old ovaries! Betrayed by my own body and mind, acting as my oppressors.
If there was one thing I would say to someone wandering around in similar grief:
God loves you. AS IS. Do no let infertility whisper this lie to you anymore. The answer is 100% yes.
I have been there sister, loved by God. I know the darkness and distrust that can take root. I began to not trust God. Not trust him with my prayers. I began to fear the worse. I needed to be reminded and then I stumbled across this video: