This picture was taken on Samuel’s first day home from the hospital. Many look at such pictures and are filled with awe and sweetness, for those who struggle with infertility, there is also pain.
I understand that feeling. I’ve been there, and it’s a struggle like nothing I’ve ever been through before. When I was 16 I was told that I probably had PCOS, and would likely have a hard time getting pregnant; there was a possibility I might not be able to get pregnant at all. As a 16-year-old, I didn’t like this news, but I wouldn’t fully understand the weight of such a reality until later. I love kids and figured I could either adopt or throw myself into working with children through whatever profession God sent me to. It didn’t seem like a big deal.
As I got older, I realized that I wanted to be a mom more than anything else in the world. I couldn’t wait. My husband and I decided it was time to start a family, but because of the PCOS, went to a doctor sooner rather than waiting the traditional year to find out what we already knew to be true – I wasn’t going to get pregnant easily.
I had an excellent doctor, but we were limited in what we could do to help the situation. Nothing related to PCOS or infertility would be covered by my insurance because it was a pre-existing condition. With little funds, we worked hard on diet, exercise and other alternative ways to help. It didn’t take long to see that these methods were not helping, and I was still suffering from anovulation.
I felt powerless.
I pleaded with God, and tried to trust Him, that His timing would be perfect. I clung to the stories of the childless matriarchs such as Hannah, Sarah, and Elizabeth. I knew that God gave them a child, but deep down inside I was afraid. What if God’s answer for me was no? What if I never would have a child of my own? The thoughts of that empty longing were sometimes overwhelming.
It was especially difficult to see a lot of my friends having babies, and so many people struggling with unplanned pregnancies. Many well-meaning people would ask “So, when’s it going to be your turn,” or, “Your time will come.” Those remarks dug deep.
With a new job and better insurance, we were able to purse more options medically. After three months of a new approach, I found out I was pregnant with my son, the child we had spent years praying for. That’s why we named him Samuel.
We are so thankful for our precious son and marvel every day at the gift God has given us. But now, as we are eager to expand our family, we face the infertility journey again. I thought it would be easier the second time around, and in some ways it is. I do have more hope, but the road is different and in the end, just as challenging. I don’t know what the future holds, but I will chose to be thankful for the blessings God gives me each and every day, and I will continue to pray for those who are also travailing this difficult road of infertility.