When what you've given is enough

The conversation began as we sat down to talk about how we were going to realistically pay for the rest of the upcoming invitro expenses that would be due in a few short weeks. Up until this time I knew the numbers, but that's all they were. Just numbers.

One by one we added them up. Twenty thousand dollars (not including additions if more tests were needed or problems arose). I stared at the number and my stomach sank. And I knew in my heart where this conversation was going.

We've already spent $15,000 trying to bring a baby into our family, and sadly were left with nothing. Now we would be borrowing from our future for a 33% chance at having a baby. And if it didn't work we'd be left with nothing and if it did work, we would have hit zero. Not a safe place to start. And if there were newborn complications? We would be in trouble. We knew that we needed to be smarter and more honest than that.

But we both know it's not just about money. I just needed something to shock me into reality. To a place where we would have this conversation. We have both wanted this so badly for so long.

Rod has felt hesitant this time around. I'm not sure what I've felt. I know I initially hesitated to make the invitro appointment because I knew what was in store and I knew it would be hard. Any other hesitation I might have had was masked by my commitment to do whatever I needed to do, so I didn't let myself question.

After our unsettling conversation, I sat balancing our checkbook, trying to push any and all thoughts out of my head. I thought if I kept busy I wouldn't have to think. But the thoughts that plagued my head were uncontrollable. I held back the tears as I tried to convince myself that this wasn't really happening. That I still had the ability to control this. And as my heart pounded in my chest and the tears threatened, I knew that just wasn't true.

And then the tears came. As Rod and I knelt beside our bed, broken hearted, I knew this was the way it needed to be. And I knew that what we had already given, was enough. We would not be going through with invitro after all. God's plan for us might not include a family in the way I always imagined it. It might not include me experiencing the joy of carrying a child. It might not include me looking into the eyes of a baby who looked just like us. And this would have to somehow be okay.

We heard a testimony earlier in the day from a new convert, who's wife had just lost their 4th baby to a miscarriage. He said that because of the gospel, he can accept that it is part of God's plan for them.

That struck me. Is it all really as easy as that? As simple as accepting our lives the way they are because we know that we are living God's plan for us? It probably is that simple. It's just not as easy to accept sometimes.

And now we grieve.

The loss is great and although there is a small sense of relief in knowing that all we have done is enough, it is still hard.

And in our grief, we mourn for what might have been, and what will never be, but we will also try to reformulate our vision of what our family will be. And we will try to open our hearts to whatever the Lord has in store for us and we will work to embrace it because it is His plan for us.