Today is not sad like it has been in the past. The grief has settled. And while she was on our hearts and minds all day, the day came, and it has passed. I would like to share more of our journey.
A few Sunday's ago at our church my good friend Ashley told her story. She came to know God through the death of Rosalie. Her story gives me hope that one day we will see how God was working.
When I opened my blog to write a post, I found a post from a year ago that I had wrote on her 3rd birthday. I never published it. At that time, I really had a loss for words. Sometimes, things are just too hard to write.
Much of our journey has been marked with infertility. While infertility isn't very common, 1 in 10 couples receive some sort of help in conception. We are that 1 in 10.
Infertility is a hard journey. It's not like you go out for coffee with a friend and say, "so, how's that journey of infertility going?" It's a tricky thing. It's a private matter, and its so incredibly difficult and painful to go through.
We did a complete round of IVF with our twins. Rose was a frozen embryo from the same round. After her, we transferred the remaining embryos, but all were unsuccessful. At that point, we went on the waiting list for a second IVF round (this time funded by the government), but we were told the waiting list was 3 years. It turned out to be be just over a year, and in January of 2018, we completed the second IVF round. It had been a long haul, but I was so hopeful for the year of 2018. If we didn't have a baby by Christmas, we would surely be expecting one. I always hyper react to the drugs, so we were very careful with the monitoring and hopeful the transfer would be successful. It didn't work out and we were pretty dissapointed. After that, we had to freeze all the embryos and wait 6 months before we could try a transfer. That was because of the funding. It's hard not being frustrated by the lack of any sort of control over the situations that infertility brings.
In June, we went through an embryo transfer. You can't imagine how extatic and freaked out we were by a positive pregnancy test! I couldn't believe it. Finally, I get to announce, we're having a baby! We had hoped for so long! We had prayed! I was a bundle of anxiety and frazzled nerves, and as life would have it, I miscarried in July.
I shoved down the grief and was determined to try again. I have been through grief before, and I know what hard work it can be. It's exhausting! I simply didn't want to grieve. In September, we were able to attempt another transfer. Another positive test. Same level of excitement, but with so much fear and reservation. For good reason. Just after thanksgiving - my 32nd birthday, I miscarried again at 9 weeks.
That particular miscarriage didn't end well, I landed up in the hospital. I remember sitting there with Mark in a hospital room with a closed door, for hours, just waiting. We didn't speak. We just sat there in the quiet.
This is where we were as Rose's 3rd birthday rolled around. How do you talk about healing? About hope? Where was this journey going? When would I be able to share good news? I couldn't seem to catch a break. And we really felt lost. What should we do? We had 5 embryos left that were frozen, not of the greatest quality, but still pretty strong. Do we try again? Could we handle another loss?
In the end of October, my sister-in-law Andrea approached me. "I don't know how to say this Jen, but if you want to try surrogacy, I'd be willing."
Surrogacy was never something we had really considered. At first I had to struggle though the realization that, for some reason, my body now seems incapable of bringing forth another life. As time passed and we had more conversations around it, the more we felt like surrogacy could be an option. Just before Christmas, we met up with Michael and Andrea and talked through all the logistics - the emotions - the practicalities - the crazy gift that surrogacy is. I called my doctor and made an appointment to discuss it with her. She brought it to the board at our clinic, and they agreed that surrogacy was a good option at this point and that Andrea was a good candidate. We started talking about lawyers, counseling and treatment involved.
As the winter months rolled in, the bleakness of the season and the stress of our situation really started to wear on me. Winter of 2019 was exceptionally difficult, and I found myself mentally spiraling into a dark place. I think, that after all we had been through, the 'what-ifs' were too great. It's hard for anyone to really imagine, what my reality has been. That night that Rosie was born, I don't often think or tell the horrific nightmare it was. I don't tell about the frantic prep for the C section, about the nurse with the wild, panicked eyes, with my head locked in her elbow, gas mask clamped to my face, commanding me to breath in as I struggled and fought her out of panic. The surgeon starting the cut before I was out. The line "I almost died", many people have said, but for me, I almost did die. Mark watched the whole thing from across the room, and he didn't know if I was going to make it through. The multiple blood transfusions I had because I lost so much blood. This is what I carry with me. What if something happens to Andrea? Michael and Andrea have two beautiful children, the risk just seemed so great. Or what if something happens to the baby? We had been through so much loss. The prospect of facing another loss - a much more complicated loss - was too much. As much as we tried to calm our hearts, we struggled to feel at peace about it. Finally, in the spring of 2019, we decided to stop the process.
There are 4 of us sister-in-laws on the Vanderherberg side, and we share a special bond. I will forever treasure in my heart the offer of surrogacy. That someone could love me so much to go through such great lengths for our happiness. That someone would so selflessly give of herself for me. I will always hold a special place in my heart for Andrea, as I do for all of my family. Andrea gave me the gift of hope.
Marking the decision to stop the surrogacy process was so difficult. How do you know when to stop? How do you know when you've been through enough? How do you left it all go?
We started the conversations of not trying anymore. It was incredibly difficult and it still is. I know that we will heal, that time will pass, and that we will feel peace about it.
Almost 6 months has passed, and it's still something we wrestle with. Maybe we always will. But, as the new reality sets in, there is a sense of relief. Through counseling, taking time to wrestle with it, we will pull through. We talk about adoption. I need more time. I need to wrestle out a few things before moving forward.
I've talked about my faith, and through it all, my faith has never been in doubt. I have never questioned God's existence, or that I believe in him. I have wondered, where the redemption is in our story. I have wrestled with knowing how to trust God with our future, after all that has happened.
Who are You God?
You are turning out to be so much different than I imagined.
And where are you God?
I am finding life to be so much harder than I had planned
Know that I am afraid to ask these questions
But You know they are there
And if you know my heart the way that I believe you do - You know that I believe in You
Still I have these questions
Like How could you God?
How could You be so good and strong and make a world that can be so painful?
And where were you God?
I know you had to be right there - I know you never turn your head
You know that I'm confused by all this mystery
You know I get afraid
But if you know my heart as completely as I trust you do
Oh you know that I trust in you
Is it true?
That for every tear I cry - You cry a thousand more
Cause you weep for those that weep
And are you, just holding yourself back?
From crushing all the pain and evil in this world
For reasons we just cant understand for now
But isn't there a day of redemption coming?
So who am I God
That you would raise me from the dust
To breathe your life and your love in me
("Questions" - Steven Curtis Chapman)
Thank you for sharing.
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