I'm Waiting On You Lord

I waited several years before my husband was ready to have children, and naively went into it thinking that we would conceive immediately and life would be a big happy ending. But the months ticked by faster than I had thought they would and before I knew it a full year and then 18 months had passed. We started going through testing and while my doctor got a couple of "maybe" ideas, no real problem presented itself. Grasping at the only odd test result that came back, my doctor told me that we had a slim chance of conceiving naturally. Our only hope would be IUI or IVF. Our insurance doesn't cover infertility treatment or procedures, so everything that we do has to be paid for out-of-pocket.

We would never look down on anyone to turning to IVF, but decided that IVF just isn't for us, so it is IUI or bust. It's just a personal decision for us. Knowing that IVF will give us a 75% chance of success and IUI will only give us only a 15% chance makes this a day-by-day struggle to stand firm in my convictions; but if I believe what I believe, then we only have one choice. With fear and even new-found hope, we prepared for our first IUI procedure in April. After taking lots of medications and even giving myself an injection, the day finally came. When I opened my Franklin planner that morning the quote at the top of that day's page said:

"Being defeated is often a temporary condition,
Giving up is what makes it permenant." -- Marilyn vos Savant

With the IUI procedure done, there was nothing left to do but wait. I had lots of ups and downs. Towards the end of the wait I was very emotional. We found out two days after Mother's Day that the procedure had not worked. I was crushed. I spent three hours out in my vegetable garden crying in a way that I can only describe as violent. I wanted to shake my fist at God and demand to know what I had done that was so wrong. Why, when in a world where drug addicts become accidental mothers every day, could I not have a family of my own. I kept hearing Mark's words from a sermon earlier in the year, over and over in my head:

"If your god isn't big enough to do ______, then you need a bigger God."

But what do you do when your God is big enough, but just doesn't? It's an amazing horrible lonely feeling, when after you've spent so much time praying and reaching out in your time of need, the response is nothing but silence. And then, I stopped crying. I'm not sure why; maybe there were just no tears left. After that first failed cycle we decided that we would do a maximum of four IUI procedures before moving on to adoption because the money we use to pay for those cycles is money that we could be saving up for adoption, and I just don't know how long I can go on with the pills, injections and emotional roller coaster that characterizes infertility.

And slowly, God started to do something in me. I woke up on May 15th, 3 days after the negative result and crying fest, just like any other day. It was my day off of work so I busied myself with laundry and cleaning house. And then it happened. Those of you who are a friend of mine on Facebook saw it. I don't know what made me do it, but I posted the following status message:

"...wonders why people just don't talk about infertility -- like it's shameful or something. I had no clue how many people
I know who went through it (some successful and others not) until I had no other choice but to start venting my feelings."

And with that simple statement, I had announced to Facebook and the whole world that we were INFERTILE. The only people who have known that we were struggling with infertility were our family and a few close friends that I confided in. Most of our circle of friends and co-workers didn't know a thing. In fact, most of them were still going through life assuming we weren't going to have or didn't want children at all. It was like a big secret that I was afraid to talk to in front of anyone else because people who aren't dealing with it don't understand why it would be so hard to come to church on Mother's Day (so hard, in fact, that we didn't) or why a Pampers commercial or a baby dedication can send you flying out of a room in tears. I was amazed at the number of private messages and emails I got from others who were struggling and just wanted to be able to talk to someone else about it. Like me, they had kept it secret as well.

But God has given me the courage to finally stand up and loudly announce my presence to SCCC (and the rest of the world):

My name is Patti Spicer, and I'm struggling with infertility.

And ya know what? Talking about it hasn't fixed it, but it's made me feel better. I don't feel like I have so much anger and sadness bottled up. I don't know where my journey will end, whether through the birth of our natural child or a plane ride home from a foreign land with our "forever family" in tow, but I know that in a congregation of this size there have to be others out there who either have or are struggling just like I am. I think that's why God gave me the strength to "come out of the closet" and post that message. It's time to reach out to others who are feeling the same loss, loneliness and struggles that I am. I'd love it if you would join me out here in the nice warm sunshine.


"I’m waiting
I’m waiting on You Lord, And I am hopeful
I’m waiting on You Lord, Though it is painful
But patiently I will wait.

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience

While I’m waiting, I will serve You
While I’m waiting, I will worship
While I’m waiting, I will not faint
I’ll be running the race
Even while I wait"

-- John Waller "While I'm Waiting"