I don’t even remember how it started but Kai and I were having another one of our long talks about trying to get pregnant, next steps, what does God want, what do we want, etc.
And Kai mentioned that it feels like this has almost become an idol for me, trying to have kids. He has felt that this has been a singular focus of mine for the last three years.
This was fair, but hard to hear. It doesn’t seem fair to want something so bad that is so normal for everyone else and is in fact a natural part of life. It doesn’t feel fair to be penalized for a natural desire.
Kai nodded in agreement, “You’re right, it wasn’t fair that God asked Abraham to take his son up the mountain and sacrifice him.”
It was only natural that he would want to save his son he had been waiting for his whole life.
But there were bigger things at work. The things we do touch eternity.
I looked at Kai, he seemed so steady, so sure. I had to know if he knew what I knew:
Even if they do this surgery and have to remove my ovaries and we never have kids, you will still be okay?
He thought for a second and responded: Yes.
Down the road, when your brother is walking his daughter down the aisle, you will still be okay?
Yes.
And the first time they get to hold their grandbaby? And we still have just each other, you are still okay?
Yes.
And when it comes towards the end of our lives, and it is just you and I at the kitchen table, you will be okay with that?
Yes.
And at the very end, if I pass away before you and you are at the table by yourself, you are okay with that?
Yes.
There was a long silence as the tears dripped down before he softly said:
And even if it was before we got married, and I knew all of this, I would still choose to marry you all over again.
Silence. Crying.
Do you know why? He asked
I shook my head.
Because in all of those moments, I know how close and how good of a friend God is.
To be honest, in that moment, my first thought was “I don’t feel that.”
If I really think about it, I know it is true, God has been the closest friend during times of heartache, when I let him. But I haven’t really let him in if I am being honest.
Sometimes he feels like the enemy, not letting be get pregnant for some unknown reason. And even if I do get pregnant, will I be 80? Will I be like Sarah and only have 27 years with my kid before I die? It doesn’t seem like enough.
So, I brought this to God. He reminded me of something. For some reason, I have always wanted a unique life, one led by God. The problem with this, when your life is unique, you are alone in that. You are going through things that for the most part, are not normal.
Joseph was sold into slavery – have you ever been sold into slavery?
I think a lot of times, the beginning of the story looks pretty hopeless. Pretty desperate. Pretty grief-filled. Then, you turn the page and it looks even worse. Joseph ends up in prison in a foreign country. You have State 4 Endometriosis, and a Fibroid.
Just a note, it is nice putting those things together. It makes my problems feel smaller.
Regardless, a life given to God more often than not looks uncomfortable, battered, desperate, and alone.
At least, in the beginning.
The end seems to turn out okay, but that means you have to wait all the way to the end even if you don’t know when the end will be.
So, I had this talk with God. Okay. Even if we never have kids. Even if looking into the future, we sit alone together or alone apart – I still give it to you.
The heartache, the questions, the soccer games, the graduations, the weddings, the pregnancy stories, the life I could have lived if I could have gotten pregnant – could have had if we raised a son or a daughter – I give it to you.
Not for any good reason except for I have seen what you do when people give their lives to you. It looks bad in the beginning, and sometimes in the middle, but it’s the end you really got to watch out for.
Sarah eventually spent an eternity with her kid, her grand-kids, her great-grandkids, her great-great grandkids, her great…….
Joseph saw his Father again, and his brother, while saving God’s chosen people from starvation.
We may not ever get pregnant. We may not ever have kids. We may spend a lifetime somewhere in between this hope and despair. But maybe we can have a happy ending from the author of all endings, if we just trust him enough to live in the moment he has written right now, right here instead of spending our life trying to jump ahead to the end.
Maybe then, we can also be okay right now.
(To be clear, I don’t think that trusting God means doing nothing. Sometimes it does, but sometimes it is walking forward on dry ground when the river is in walls all around you. Sometimes it is stepping out of the boat in the middle of the storm. Sometimes it is walking up to a burning bush. Sometimes it is marching into a battle for all intents and purposes it looks like you will lose.)