Tuesdays with Tabitha: My Verse, My story

"Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."

  Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)

My husband and I needed a family verse, one that we could place at the end of our wedding photo album.  A verse that covered all the bases, answered all questions, and fit perfectly into the space that was provided by the picture of us walking down a dirt path by the water, with the train of my dress dragging behind as we began our new life together.

We chose Proverbs 3:5-6.  It sounded beautiful, and in the midst of a perfect life as newlyweds with the world in our hands, it was exactly what we knew.

It was perfect.  But I had no idea how perfectly it would fit into what God had in store for us.   

Three months after we were married, my husband and I decided that we were ready to have a baby, and we secretly started trying for our family.  Two years later, after several tests and procedures had stamped us as “normal”, we were diagnosed with unexplained infertility.  And after several attempts at IUI’s (intro-uterine insemination) failed to bring us a baby, we felt defeated.

I never imagined it would be so difficult for us to have a family, and infertility certainly wasn't a part of our plan.  For the first time in my life, I couldn't get what I wanted, when I wanted it.  I couldn't talk my way into a baby.  I couldn't buy one.  I had absolutely no control over this situation, and for someone as type A as me, that was a difficult pill to swallow.

I felt broken.  Bitter.  Resentful.  All around me, friends, loved ones and strangers danced around me, bellies swollen with beautiful babies, and I had an un-diagnosed, medical mystery of a broken uterus.  And though I never reached the point of being angry at God, looking back now I can see that while I was full of pretty words, memorized verses, and practiced phrases about God’s faithfulness, I had grown weary of waiting for His timing. I had taken matters into my own hands, relying on myself to find answers and get things done.

Running out of options, we made an appointment with a specialist in another city, and had finally stumbled upon some surprising answers.  Now diagnosed with a mild case of male infertility, the doctors had come to the conclusion that it was best that we moved on to the most evasive medical procedure possible, IVF.

And I had concluded that I could no longer do this on my own.

I had to make a choice.  I could spend my life waddling in self pity and drowning in sorrow, or I could leave my troubles at the feet of the only One who could make things right. I knew it was imperative to put my favorite verse into action if I were to survive the coming months of probing, testing, hormone injections, retrievals and the waiting game.  I had to take those beautiful words and make them my own, bury them deep in my heart and finally believe them.

Slowly, God began to change my heart.  But the seed of bitterness had already taken root, and just like a stubborn weed it was easy to pull up for a short time but always managed to grow back, and removing it was a daily battle.   And over the next year I rode the roller coaster of infertility, watching and waiting as three cycles of what was supposed to be a fool proof solution to our problems still failed to yield us a baby.

I was starting to question God again.  I was scooting as close to Him as I could possibly get, yet my prayers weren't getting answered, at least not the way I wanted them to.  Even the doctors were surprised that we hadn't achieved a pregnancy yet, and we were nearing our fourth and final try.  I could handle the shots, the painful retrievals, and the dreadful two week wait, but IVF is an expensive procedure.  And though I was handling it fine physically, the mental aspect of the ups and downs was taking its toll.  We were headed for our last try, and we prepared our hearts for what was to come.

I took a pregnancy test the night before our blood test to confirm whether or not we were pregnant, unable to wait any longer.  And my hopes and dreams were instantly shattered as I stared long and hard at just one line on the pregnancy test.

I remember feeling calm.  My heart was breaking and I had no idea what I was going to do, but there was a peace.  And I was able to keep my composure while setting in the chair the next day in the cold, sterile clinic, watching the nurse fumble with my vein as she tried her best to extract my blood to confirm what I already knew.

God had given us our final answer, and it was no.

A few hours later, I received a call.  It was the nurse from our doctor’s office, and she let me know that while a beta of eleven was a very low number, there was still hope.

The home pregnancy test was unable to pick up such a low number, so it was negative.  But I was pregnant.

We poured our heart out to God in the following days, praising Him for this blessing, and begging Him to let us keep it.  And after then next series of blood test confirmed that our beta of eleven had dropped to zero and we had lost our baby, there was still peace.

We were forced to believe that if we trusted God-and not ourselves-He would direct our paths.

Numb, heartbroken and devastated, I strived to continue to praise God that even if it was for a short time, I had been given the gift of life growing inside of me.  Just as Job 1:21 said, the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.   All of the medication was stopped, and we waited for the baby we had waited and prayed years for to disappear.
 

Then, a few days later, we got another call.
 

There had been a mistake.  My blood test had to be re-ran.  I hadn't lost the baby, my beta had risen and I had still been pregnant a week ago.  Instructions were given to re-start the medications right away, and another blood test had to be taken.  We needed to make sure my beta was still raising and that the baby was still alive, since the necessary medication had been stopped. This had never happened before.  They were so very sorry.  Prayers went up that life was still growing despite the mistake. We needed a miracle.
 

Nine months later, our miracle was born, a healthy 8lbs and 9oz and all kinds of beautiful.
From the beginning, God had a plan. He never made a mistake, and He knew what was best for us.  He knew that infertility would test my patience, my sanity, my faith.  He also knew that it would make me a better mother, a more compassionate person, and a more faithful servant. 
 

Now, more than ever, I believe Proverbs 3:5-6.  I have lived it, I've experienced it, and I've survived it.  I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good (Psalms 34:8) and though I still experience times when it’s hard to see Him in the midst of a struggle, I can always look at my sweet Scarlett Grace as a reminder of His mercy and faithfulness.
 

And now, as we approach our miracle baby’s first birthday in just a few short days, we are in the beginning stages of embarking on another infertility journey.  This time, I can dive in with my eyes and heart open, knowing that no matter what the end result is, God is good.
And If I trust Him fully, He will direct my path-even if it’s not the road I intended to travel down.

Do you find it difficult to trust the Lord in the middle of life’s struggles?

Do you have a favorite verse that sometimes just looks like pretty words?

When in your life have you “tasted and seen that the Lord is good”?

For more on my infertility journey, visit my blog, Think (+) Positive