One month.
That's how much longer the wait is to meet this baby girl of ours. Although, right now it doesn't feel like waiting. It feels more like a mad rush to get ready for both the holidays and a new little member of the family.
(Fortunately, we're in the swing of things for Christmas. Greg, despite a nasty cold, got up the Christmas decorations over Thanksgiving weekend. The house is appropriately festive. We're enjoying the advent calendar--with its song, scripture, and chocolates--each evening with the kids. Christmas music is being played and Christmas books are being read. While we have simplified some things and cut back on a few other things this year, it's definitely Christmastime in the H household! Hooray!
Less fortunate is our readiness for this baby. As you may recall, I reorganized the house, purposely leaving no room for a baby. Obviously, babies don't take up much room. But their stuff sure does. Not that we have any of that stuff. It's still packed away in the basement or waiting to be purchased. One month, people. I've got one month.)
Just one month! After all this time, it is just one month.
It was almost exactly four years ago that I had a miscarriage. It was very early in the pregnancy, but devastating nonetheless (something that somewhat surprised me). Despite the disappointment, it seemed as if it would be but a small set-back. A "small set-back" that turned into four years. Life got in the way.
We realized Greg would be deploying for a year. Then he did. Then life continued to be complicated. We knew (or thought we knew) it was time for another baby, but it didn't feel right--which was baffling and confusing and unexpected. Fits and starts. Hoping and wondering, doubting and questioning. Begging to know the future. Pleading to know why.
Finally, there was a feeling of "Yes, it's time to be serious about having a baby." Soon thereafter, Greg and I were able to visit the temple together. And in the quiet peace of the temple, this thought came into my head: "Your baby's name will be ..." It was a girl's name. We were going to have a girl! And I even knew her name. It was so precious, so sacred, that I didn't even tell Greg. It was knowledge for my heart alone.
Of course, I assumed I would get pregnant immediately. That very month! But I didn't. Or the next month. Or the next. Or the next. Month after month passed. The confusion returned. And the doubt and the begging and pleading to know. I hated, resented, the calendar and the thermometer. I wondered about other measures. There had been a lot of unsuccessful months, almost a year. And if I counted all of the other unsuccessful, but nonconsecutive months, it amounted to more like two years. Was that a lot? Was I justified in my frustration and disappointment? Where was my patience? What was wrong with me? What was God trying to teach me? Because I was obviously failing! I was obviously unworthy in some way. Such were my unhappy thoughts.
One day I had a regular old check-up with my doctor. I mentioned the trying to get pregnant and not. I sounded wishy-washy on my desire to have a baby. My doctor immediately set me straight: "Alisa, you will be 35 this year. It is only going to get harder to get pregnant. If you want to have a baby, you need to accept that and DO IT NOW. I'm giving you two months, and then I'm referring you to a fertility clinic. The sooner you do this, the more likely success will be. NOW is the time." Generally, I do not like to be bossed around. (I prefer to do the bossing.) But I needed to hear her blunt words. It was time to make a decision. I wasn't even quite sure what the question was, but I felt like there was an answer out there.
Soon it became clear in my heart what the decision was. We were not going to pursue any fertility treatments. The decision was surprising. But it brought me peace. In fact, I found great peace. I was able to let all the confusion and doubt and resentment go. I was able to let go of my expectations. Meaning, I came to peace with not having a baby. I came to peace with not being pregnant again, with not giving birth again, with not nursing again. I mourned. I cried. But I found a sense of peace. Even though it didn't necessarily make sense, I found an answer. We would not pursue fertility treatments, and I happily trashed the calendar and thermometer.
Yet we knew our family wasn't complete. Here is where there narrative makes an inexplicable tangent. Insert two intense of months of researching and pursuing adoption. This is not the time and post to go into great detail. Because this is about waiting for the baby girl in my womb. But it is true that near the end of the waiting, we talked adoption. And decided. I spent hours and hours every day researching options. Together Greg and I narrowed down potential agencies and started figuring out the finances.
I'm sure you can see where this is going--it's so cliche. Once I let go of my hopes and dreams of getting pregnant, and once we started pursuing adoption, I ... drum roll ... got pregnant! (Seriously, you can roll your eyes. I know it's cliche ... but it's also what really happened.)
I was late. But I'd been late before. That's the worst--when you go through half a dozen pregnancy tests convinced you must be pregnant because you're still late. I wasn't playing that game again. I was NOT pregnant, and I wasn't going to harbor any hope. Besides, I was up to my ears in adoption stuff. I was arranging to meet with a mom up the street who had adopted. I had figured out who should do our home study. We were registered for a seminar with the state. And I was on the verge of arranging a meeting with an agency in Chicago.
I woke up one day, and I knew the first thing on my list was calling the agency in Chicago. I was pretty sure this would be the one. And arranging to go meet with them was not something I took lightly. I realized I just needed to know for sure, that morning, that I wasn't pregnant. I didn't think I was. But I needed to know for sure. There were no pregnancy tests in the house. So I sent Greg to Walgreen's at six in the morning.
I took the test. It was positive. I couldn't believe it. I just stared. And stared. Then I rushed out into the hallway. Everyone was busy getting ready for the day. The kids were jumping up on Greg needing this and that. I caught his eye. "It's positive. I'm pregnant," I mouthed, in wonder. Greg smiled. It was the sweetest, most genuine, spontaneous, straight from the heart smile. I will never forget it. And then he took the kids to school. I stared at the test and thought of his smile. That's how I felt too.
In case you're wondering, we did continue the adoption route for a while longer. There was the fear of miscarrying, of course. Also, we weren't quite ready to abandon the whole idea. The process takes so long, after all, and we were already quite invested emotionally. But once I got quite sick, I was ready to let go. It was time to focus on this particular precious child who was coming to our family. (I have no idea if adoption if something we would consider again. Right now, if I were to guess, I would say no. But I trust that the Lord will let us know.)
So here we are. Near the end of (what seemed to me) a long wait. I will admit, the wait has made the experience even sweeter. I am overwhelmed with the feeling that this child is a blessing. There is something about being just a little bit older and having had to wait a little bit longer that makes the gratitude in my heart more poignant. With my first, fear was co-mingled with excitement. He was my first! With my second, again fear was co-mingled with the anticipation. Could I handle two?? But this time, I feel happiness. No fear. Just gratitude. And joy.
One more month!
