My Baby Story
There I was, 39 years old, married, childless and desperately wanting to have a baby. So when I found out about IVF (In-Vitro Fertilization), well it seemed as though the heavens had parted and a dove, in the form of my doctor and my health benefits that covered all of the procedures, descended onto my shoulder and said, “go for it my daughter.”
So I embarked upon this journey because after all, this had to be God’s will. I selected a doctor and it was in the waiting room that I met a woman who attended my church. We were the same age, married for the same amount of years and she too desperately wanted to have a child. We quickly became friends, then sisters. We spent months praying with each other, quoting scriptures to each other, laughing, crying and comforting each other as we journeyed. God blessed her to give birth to 3 beautiful baby boys. I got zilch.
3 years later…
I was sitting in the movie theater with friends. My cell phone vibrated with a call from the IVF office. I just had my 11th procedure and went to take the pregnancy test that morning. I let the message go to voicemail but curiosity got the better of me. I stepped out of the theater and listened to those glorious words,
“Congratulations Mom, you are pregnant!”
Tears of joy streamed down my face. I wanted to tell my husband first face to face, so I decided to go back to the theater and not say a word to my friends but Lord knows my heart was loudly singing and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Five minutes later the phone vibrated. It was the doctor’s office again. Not willing for it to go to voicemail this time, I quickly left the theater and took the call. The woman apologized profusely as she explained that the previous call was an error and that I was not pregnant.
I felt as if I had been shot in the stomach!
I couldn’t breathe and nearly slid to the floor as I battled not to shed any tears. I didn’t say a word to anyone. I just couldn’t deal with the pity. So I held it in, went home, got in the shower and fell on the floor crying from the depths of my soul.
That is where my husband found me. I couldn’t speak – I literally could not articulate a single word - but he somehow knew. And so he held onto me as the battle for my soul ensued.
A month later the doctor advised me to stop trying and go on with my life. Audibly, I said “Thank you Jesus. You know what’s best for me.” Inwardly I said, “Why should I continue to serve You? I could serve Buddha, the universe, heck, I could be an atheist and get the same if not better results.”
The church, the spoken and written word of God and prayer no longer appealed to me. Little by little anger grew. Unknowingly, I used that anger to put a crack into my spiritual barrier. Depression immediately seeped in. By the end of the year, that crack became a hole. Two years later, that hole had become a crater. But I thought that I had gone on with my life.
