Josh and I married in 2006. In the summer of 2007, we decided we wanted to have a child of our own. (My son Ashton was born in 2004). Josh had never experienced pregnancy or childbirth, and we were so excited about doing this together. After about six months of trying, we got a little worried. I knew that birth control could have lasting effects, so we didn't get too worried at first. After a year, however, we were pretty worried. Before I went to see my OBGYN, I started reading up on pregnancy and ovulation. I started charting my temperature. I bought ovulation testing kits. (We probably could have purchased stock in pregnancy and ovulation kits. Holy cow. SO MANY TESTS.) In the meantime, every negative pregnancy test and every period was devastating. I cried each and every time my period started. I cried each and every time the pregnancy test came back negative. As I sat and wept in my bathroom, it was like I was attending a private funeral for one. I felt like I couldn't share my grief with anyone. It was even hard to share it with my husband. I felt like it was all my fault. After months of reading on ovulation and charting my temperature, I started to figure out that I wasn't ovulating. It was then that I finally went to visit my OBGYN. Josh and I both underwent testing, and it turns out that Josh is fully fertile. (Sorry if that embarrassed you, babe.) I, on the other hand, was the source of all the issues. My suspicions had been correct. I wasn't ovulating. It was all my fault. During this time period, I offered my husband a divorce - as I called it, "an easy way out," so he could marry a fertile woman if he wanted. I assumed that he cared more about producing a progeny more than he cared about me. His shock and being totally caught off-guard assured me that I was totally and completely wrong. (What a surprise - he loved me for me, and not for my ovaries.) I started taking an oral medication to increase my ovulation. OH MY WORD, THAT MEDICATION MADE ME FEEL INSANE. Y'all, I was on an emotional roller coaster, and it never was any fun. I felt angry and extremely depressed, I lashed out at anyone and everyone, and I was MISERABLE. I kept taking the medication, we kept "scheduling" sex, and I kept taking pregnancy tests. NEGATIVE. EVERY. TIME. More private funerals for one. I honestly do not even know how long I was on the oral medication. We finally got to the point where I couldn't stand how it made me feel, and under care of my OBGYN, I stopped taking it. A few years ago, I underwent a surgery to clear up complications from endometriosis. My doctor thought I might have scar tissue from that, and it could possibly be the culprit behind my lack of ovulation. The surgery was described as being successful for most people - many women, it seemed, got pregnant within months following the surgery! Well, the recovery from surgery was long and painful. And spoiler alert: I didn't get pregnant. It's 2018, and I still haven't. (You may be thinking, "This sounds more like a grief story, not a story of hope and inspiration!" Yeah, I get that. Keep on reading...) Not too long ago, we decided to stop treatment. It was hard and heart-breaking. I had to start taking hormones to "fix" the ways the oral medication ravaged my body. We've tried writing new future stories. It's been 11 years. Wow. I calculated the math this morning. How weird, that it's been that long. So where's the hope? We have one child - mine by biology, Josh's by step-parent adoption. While we give thanks for this child, we grieve the fact that we did not get to have a child together. We grieve the fact that we did not get to experience ultrasounds, first heartbeats, choosing a name together, partnering in birth... I grieve that he never got to put his hand on my belly and feel a baby kick. That he never got to drive furiously to the hospital while calling relatives to say, "It's time!" But here's the hope. We have written new future stories. The stories keep changing. Right now, I'm in seminary right now. It's a three-year program. I drive about three to four hours each day I commute. I spend all my time doing homework and preparing projects, while being a wife, mother, and youth director... If I had a baby, or a toddler, I might not have chosen to go to seminary. I might not be preaching. I might not be leading Sunday night youth prayers and mission trip. My son is entering his teen years and needs me now maybe more than ever. I'm able to devote my time and energy to him and not feel even more spread thin. My husband and I are learning new ways to carve out time for each other. You see, my hope didn't end with a baby. It didn't end with IVF or adoption or a biological break-through. My hope didn't actually end. My faith in God, and my ever-evolving understanding of who God is and how God works, is my hope. My understanding that God didn't "give me infertility" so that I might finally "learn something" gives me hope. My understanding that God weeps when we weep, and that my "private funerals for one" weren't that at all, but that God was with me in every single moment - that gives me hope. My understanding that I am not alone and that there are so many people out there who are living stories like mine, that gives me hope. So if your hope doesn't look like everyone else's, dear friends, please know that you are not alone. Hope is still there. My prayer is that you find it, and that peace accompanies you as you're looking. Love, Dallas
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If you had asked me 40 months ago what I would be doing on September 15, 2016; I can guarentee you I would not have responded with "just laying, my son - MY SON - down for a little nap." 40 months ago, Thomas and I decided we wanted to have a more fruitful life and took the plunge into the world of "trying to conceive." I remember sitting on my back porch "calculating the days" and thinking to myself "this has to work *THIS MONTH* or I won't survive. I am NOT one of those women who can let month by month pass by without anything." Flash forward 6 or so months and I was making up my bed letting all the horrible scenarios of never having children go through it. I had already had a new nephew be born, numerous friends annouce their pregnancy, two sister in laws announce their pregnancies...Things were not looking good. I was in a deep hole. I lost friends, I was quick to anger, I talked way too much about "that stuff" with my husband, I was running from God, determined to figure out what was wrong my way on my time table - the quickest and fastest way possible. Acupuncture, tests, medicince, more tests, possible surgeries, numerous doctors, midwives... I'd love to tell you that I immediately realized my error in not turning to God and changed my outlook, fell to my knees, and let him take control...But I didn't. And I believe that was exactly how God wanted it to happen. I went through a refining fire and there I found Christ. A real and tangible Christ. I believe, NOW, that all my fear, all my doubt, all my struggling, was for a magnificent reason. All my tears, all my anger, all those words people spewed at me, all those "quick fixes," all come together in one miraclous unfolding. It took TWO more years to get me to a place where I fully trusted and leaned on God. It was not until mid March-early April of 2016 that I KNEW I was where God wanted me. I had come to the realization that Christ was good and He started cultivating a change in my life in October of 2015. You see, I had a major surgery on October 7, 2015. I was told by the doctor that I could wake from the surgery with the news that I would be having a full hysterectomy. At 28 years old, that terrified me. I wasn't sure what that meant. How that affected my life. How God could allow this new trial. I remember watching a video about a young mother, 3 boys under the age of 3, and her husband dropped dead one morning. She had every reason to give up and call God evil and unloving, but instead she praised Him, singing, and called Him good. And then she blew my mind even further. She THANKED Him for her trials. That was a turning point in my life. With tears streaming down my face, I gave the entire outcome of the surgery and the outcome of our battle to God. I went into the surgery with a peace, knowing that God had a plan and that it would be good. Would I love all the details? Would everything ultimately be fixed when I woke up? Would the journey be over? Absolutely not. Did I still have down days from then to the present? Yes. Many. Is God still good? Is He still faithful? 100 times yes. Did I get the news I wanted upon awaking? No. Did we thank God for it anyway? Yes. I did not have to have a hysterctomy, however, the endometrosis that was growing in my body was found to be way worse than we had hoped. My doctor wanted to place me on Lupron injections where for six long months I would basically be sent into early menopause- hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings, joint pain, restlessness - and above all else - we had to agree to NOT try and conceive. By month three, I was beginning to question WHY I was on these shots. What good were they? What could they possibly be doing that was beneficial to my body and my journey to have a child? I do not know the answer to that, but I do know, sometime in mid-March/early April, the Lord touched my heart and spoke directly to me and I felt the intense urge to be completely still. To trust in his divine plan and that something HUGE was coming. I just needed to find contentment in Him. I never imagined what He did have in store, but the work He was doing in my stillness was remarkable. My heart was changing, my desires were being refocused and my hope was being firmly planted in the Lord. The Lord will fight for you. You need only to BE STILL. Exodus 14:14. In a small group of women that I had been meeting with, I was reading the book PLAN B by Pete Wilson. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Once again, I was made aware of how good God is - that our plans are never ours in the first place. They are His and they are meant for His good and for no other reason than to every. single. time. SHOW HIS GLORY. I began to claim that for myself. His Glory. Infertile? His glory. Lupron Injection Day? His glory. Facebook blown up with pregnancy announcements. His glory. Friends and Family having babies? His glory. When I began to look at life that way, I began to see that this world wasn't out to get me. That I wasn't in this alone. That I had a King who had gone before me, taking on my suffering, all to one day turn all the trials and tears right back to the cross and remind us that He. Is. Good. And He loved me through those still dark days and sadness I didn't always find ending. In his heart a man plans his course, BUT the Lord determines his steps. Proverbs 16:9. The story isn't over. The Lupron injections are over but the path to having a biological child is far from over. Do I one day hope to feel a child growing in my womb? Do I hope to hold a little girl or boy who has Thomas' eyes or sweet face? Absolutely. But whether I get that joy or not, my story includes a life that was being planned in the midst of my pain.... You see, Samuel had to have been concieved right around the time of my last failed month of Clomid. His birth mother probably found out she was pregnant around the time the Lord was preparing me for my surgery. She decided on the day he was born that she couldn't give him the life that she knew he deserved which was less than a week after I commited my heart to being prepared for whatever the Lord had in store for our family. GOD IS GOOD. I stand in awe of my King. He knew every last detail of this precious boy's life. My prayer is that he never knows a day without my love nor His heavenly Father's love. The heavenly realm fought to bring this baby to this earth and the angels among us paved the way for us to become His earthly parents. We are so in love with him. His journey to our hearts is below. The Saturday started like any other Saturday. Thomas off biking, me having a lazy morning, working on some crafting supplies, planning to take Chaco and Chewy (the dog we were dog sitting for the weekend) off on a little adventure later. At 8:15, my phone rang and my sweet Aunt Carol was on the other line, with the most amazing little baby cry in the background. She asked me if I was interested in taking a little baby that had just been born at 8:10 and when my broken tear filled answer was yes, she said then get a lawyer and get here now. I had to find Thomas, who I did find on the side of the mountain road (after laying on the horn and making ALL the bikers he was with utterly angry) and told him to get in the truck, we had to get to Calhoun ASAP. He of course being the best husband ever, just jumped right on in. (Yes, thats a God thing that I found Thomas. He bikes ALL OVER the mountains and his tracker hardly ever works.) (I feel like it needs to be said that about a month prior to this we had an opportunity to pursue another adoption and that was when we realized we were 100% open to it and since it fell through, that once Lupron injections were over we would be weighing our odds of IVF and adoption, knowing we couldn't afford both, but all the while hoping a private/independent adoption would become available, but knowing it was probably not a high chance.) So we leave both dogs at home, don't pack a bag, and jump in the car. In the midst of all this time, we don't have a lawyer. We don't have a family lawyer and it's Saturday. So, every sweet nurse at the hospital started calling lawyers and a sweet man actually answered. He put us into contact with the most amazing women there ever was. Elinor was on vacation but had exactly what she needed to help guide us through everything and sent Mr. David up to help us out. (Yeah, that's a God thing too.) When we all arrived at the hospital, we were told of the birth mother being asleep and unable to sign the papers at the time. We were given a room and a place to stay once he would be brought to us. As time drug on, we decided to run get lunch and stop by my sister's house and learn the basics of being parents- you know, how to put a car seat in the truck, how to open a stroller, etc. I also need to mention that my sweet sister who was over 6 1/2 months pregnant had been busy getting literally EVERYTHING we would need to be parents out from her upstairs, including washing clothes and packing diaper bags. (She's a gem. I'd be half a person without her in my life.) Around 2:30, we got the call that the birth mother was awake and we would be able to sign the papers. Around 4pm, my aunt Carol walked our son into our room and we cried and held him and loved on him like there was no tomorrow. Yes, we had our ten day wait period, yes we had a fair share of paperwork, home study stress, criminal backgroud checks, fingerprinting, and months of worry ahead of us, but the moment that little body was placed into our arms, we felt complete. Our story had meaning. Not everyone gets that on this side of heaven, but I am so very thankful to the Lord giving me that. 40 months ago if my Aunt Carol had called me and asked me to take a baby boy, I wouldn't have said yes. Who are we kidding, 9 months ago I probably wouldn't have said yes. But today, when the judge called us Mom and Dad to Samuel Thomas Odom, I was once again THANKFUL for the trials, the valleys, the tears...and for the first time in a long time I was able to really let out a breathe and it was full of utter thanks to our Savior. To God be the Glory. |
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