Dear Child of Mine,

As I sit here, postured in such a way as to avoid painful abdominal responses, I am posing questions like:

What now?

Are our chances of getting pregnant really good?

Should my hopes be up?

Am I afraid? 

What in the world do these graphic images of my internal organs even mean?!

And I have to admit, I’m kind of torn on how I feel about the subject. I honestly didn’t think much beyond Tuesday morning. In fact, I didn’t even have the surgery scheduled until my first appointment with Dr. Ahadi which was….*looking at her google calendar because she can’t remember*…September 16th. As I was leaving that initial appointment we talked about the laparoscopic surgery and I remember thinking, “Sure, why wait? The sooner the better.” I mean, we finally have insurance (praise the Lord) and it’s only been 51 months of unexplained infertility…what do we have to lose?!

I didn’t consider the fact that I was having surgery. I’ve never had surgery. I wasn’t even nervous. Just a teeny bit. But not a normal-Melanie-level of nervousness. I didn’t even get queasy and passy-out-y from the IV (for the first time ever.) I didn’t consider needing recovery time, nor did I realize I probably wouldn’t be able to work or host that girls dinner or have worship practice or prayer meeting. For real, Child, I was sending emails Sunday night telling the worship team about rehearsal Wednesday, not realizing that having general anesthesia and two holes drilled into my abdomen might maybe lay me up for a little while.

Silly me. I’m normally so prepared. I drive your dad nuts by the amount of advance planning I find necessary. I think through all the angles. Calculate. Recalculate. Double check everything.

Not this. Not surgery. I just walked into the Surgical Institute like it was a dental cleaning or something. What in the world?!

Psychologically there must be something behind all of ^that.^ Perhaps I didn’t allow myself to think ahead for fear of what this might mean. What if I didn’t have endometriosis? What if there really is no cause of my infertility? What if all of my soul-crushing cramps over the years have just been your normal-every-day-no-big-deal kind of pain, and I’m just a wussy? What if I do get pregnant? What if we’re not ready? What if, what if, what if?

So I just didn’t think. I just did it. 

I’m so glad I did. I’m so thankful that I do have endometriosis (and perhaps even PCOS…we haven’t met with the doctor for follow-up, so I have no idea what they actually found or what answers or conjectures she may have for us.) It’s just nice to have a problem to solve, as weird as that sounds. But now we’re in that weird place of hopeful-not-too-hopeful again. We want to be expectant, believing God’s hand will bring about life from this internally-altering procedure. But to have hope also allows room for more pain, more rejection.

Rock? Meet Hard Place.

But that reminds me of this old spiritual we sang in choir at SAU.

My God is a rock in a weary land, a Shelter in a time of Storm.

I suppose He’s got this.

Waiting for You. Waiting on Him.

Mama