Working Out My Faith

In December, as we shared the news of our pregnancy with friends and family, there were screams of delight, and happy tears, hugging... so much hugging.  And there were a lot of expressions like, "Praise God!", "His timing is always perfect!", "He had a plan all along!" and "Everything happens for a reason."

I didn't think much of these statements at the time.  I was too overwhelmed with the news - after four and a half years of trying to have a biological child, it still seemed unreal to see that positive pregnancy test, to hear the nurses congratulate me at my doctor's office and then to feel the onset of nausea and exhaustion from pregnancy.

But now, I'm overcome with those words - that God was "always in control", that "this baby was meant to be all along", that what we went through - years of infertility and our adoption failing - "was part of God's plan".  Is all of that true?  That God would "allow" us to go through years and years of heartache and struggle and seemingly lead us down the road to adoption, but let it blow up in our faces?!

I honestly don't know what to believe. I am still angry at the Lord over what happened in October.  I am still angry that my precious, darling husband, who has wanted children as long as I can remember, had to wait until he was 36 years old to be a father.  I am angry that my body was never healed from the ridiculous, terrible diagnosis of unexplained infertility, even though I prayed for it (and so many others did as well) for years.  I am still angry that I cried so much, that I let the shame of being a "barren" woman seep in and define me for too long and that I felt like a failure because no matter how hard I tried, or didn't try, or prayed, or didn't pray, I still wasn't a parent.

Right before our adoption failed, as things were starting to unravel and I sensed that something could go terribly wrong, I sat on the couch next to Matt and told him this: "If this adoption fails, I am going to hate God.  I know that is a terrible thing to say, but after all we have been through, after all the time and money and tears and heartache, if He denies us this, it will be almost impossible for me to believe that He loves us."

And then the worst happened... the adoption did fail.  I went into a state of despair, then shock, then a sick season of apathy towards God.  I fed lines to my friends and family that I believed God still loved me, that He was still in control.  I didn't believe any of it myself.  Then I felt the anger start to sweep in and overtake me.  I told God he could go you-know-what himself because if He loves us He could have done anything - changed our circumstances, healed me, given me the gift of pregnancy, or helped our plans of adoption succeed.

I wrote Him off, almost completely.  I didn't deny that He was Lord, or that my salvation wasn't dependent upon Him; instead I broke off almost every thread of feeling towards Him, locking Him out of my heart and my head.  God wasn't dead to me, but He wasn't a welcome guest in my life anymore.

Then lo and behold, I found out I was pregnant.  A miracle happened in the midst of my anger and my hate, and it shook me to the core.

I don't mince words here: this pregnancy is a real miracle.  It was helped along by some fertility drugs and a nurse with a catheter, but it is still a miracle.  This baby was a medical miracle, but it was also a miracle for my faith.  I think God knew what it would take to bring me back to Him - on Friday, December 2, 2011 standing alone in my bathroom with a positive pregnancy test in my hand, I wept uncontrollably and felt almost a primal urge to start thanking and praising my God.

So I did.  I praised Him, I cried, I called out His name and said thank you over and over.  It was the first time I had spoken to God since our adoption failed.  He had brought me back to Him through something extraordinary: a miracle for my faith and a miracle in our lives. 

I don't know why our story has been written this way. What I do know is that my faith is so fragile.  It took a miracle to bring me back to the Lord, and while I am thankful that He did it, I'm sad that my faith was so weak in the first place.  I know that like someone who is recovering from a massive injury, my wounds will heal with time, but they will most likely leave scars.  People can recover from anything, but it still changes them unequivocally.

I'll never be the same from what has happened over the last four and a half years and I am still working out my faith over all that has transpired. But I can freely admit that I am thankful. I'm thankful for the life I have, for my amazing husband and marriage, for my wonderful friends and family and for this miracle baby growing inside me.

Thank you God for my miracle.