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Posted on Apr 20, 2012 in Fertility, Marriage | 6 comments



Written at the beginning of April, 2012. 

When I was nearly eleven years old, my parents surprised everyone by announcing the birth of a son.  I wasn’t too sure how I felt about that until the first time I met him.  He was so small.  I could hold his tiny head in my hand and his body fit just right, coming to my elbow perfectly.  Watching him grow, seeing the joy he brought to our family, sealed the deal for me.  I wanted babies – lots and lots of babies.

I began babysitting, then was a nanny, and through it all my resolve has remained the same.  If I know anything, it’s that I’m called to be a mother.  I informed Rick of this fact long before we ever got serious.  He wants to be a father as well, enjoying the father-son relationship he has and seeing the beauty (that’s a girl word – he’d probably prefer I use something more manly here, but what?) of the father-son relationship his nephew has with his son.

We aren’t exactly spring chickens, so we both agreed that we’d have no problem if a baby came right away.  Today we start into our fourth month of marriage with no discernible pregnancy and it is often on our minds.

My sister's sweet daughter & son

Last month, when I discovered I wasn’t pregnant, my sister’s phone rang.  I was sad, but not devastated.  I know it can take a while, and I know how much stress we’ve been under as we set up the house and get used to being married.  I told her that I just want to know that we’re capable of having babies and that we will have them some day.  It’s the not knowing that’s bothering me.  I’ve prayed for our children for as long as I’ve been praying for my husband.  At eleven years old, I laid my hand on my womb and asked God to give us healthy, whole, happy, godly children who would bring glory to His name.  I asked for ease in childbirth too.  I repeatedly made these requests and continue to do so.  But I prayed for my husband for a really long time before he came around.

With all the answered prayers I’ve recently seen, you’d think I might feel confident that God would answer the prayers for children as well.  Instead, I’ve faced that sneaky fear that creeps in without me even realizing it, telling me nothing has ever come easy to me in this department.  Why will this answer come easy?  And what if the answer is “no”?  So please, please, please – could I just know for sure that we’ll have the babies we so desire???  THEN I can be at peace!

And in the middle of this tirade my sister was so patiently listening to, I believe I heard the voice of God.  He broke right through my tantrum with these words:  Kimberly, haven’t I promised you children?  And haven’t I kept all my promises to you so far? 

I got off the phone with my sister pretty quick.  Ashamed:  that’s what I felt.  Ashamed that I could so easily forget His promises to me.  God has promised me children, leading me over and over to Isaiah 54, which promises “more are the children of the barren”…  I really DO know how it will work out.  There’s no reason to be so afraid.

As I began to rest in that promise, doubt tried to return.  But how do you know God actually promised you that.  What if you made it up in your head?  Does God really speak to you at all, or have you just made up all of this? 

I really did consider this thought for a while.  But when these doubts come to me from time to time, I’ve found my answer for them.  I would rather look like a fool, believing the voice that sounds like God to me, than risk actually not believing God.  I can only do the best I know to do.  God knows my heart.  He knows I’m trying to following His voice (and not doing anything that contradicts Scripture).  If I get it wrong, there is tremendous grace for my failure.

So I will continue to believe God has promised us children.  I will continue to believe that this home, this husband, this life I am so enjoying, is an answer to prayer and a blessing from the Lord.  And I will wait until God gives us the promise, believing that His timing is perfect and He knows better than we do what we need.

Thy will be done.

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Posted on Apr 2, 2012 in Fertility, Marriage | 0 comments

Spreading Manure

Spreading Manure

Written on a morning in March…

This morning I woke up with a feeling of joy and well-being.  No alarm screamed at me, demanding that I drag myself out of bed before I was ready and go take care of someone else’s home.  I had my warm, sleepy husband beside me, a large, comfortable bed, a clean home, and amazing Costa Rican coffee waiting to be brewed.  Ahhh…  Can life really be this good?  I shook Rick and reminded him that he wanted to get an early start this morning, cleaning the manure out of his horse’s stall and spreading it in a field for fertilizer.  (At least, I think that’s what he meant by “spreading manure.”)  I walked around our house and opened the curtains, seeing a beautiful morning with green fields of wheat right outside our windows.  I took a pregnancy test, which was negative, and decided to be happy to have another month free from morning sickness and exhaustion, rather than be sad about it.  (Oh, how I want babies…)

I puttered around, making eggs and coffee, putting away some dishes, and wiping down the dust that seems to accumulate within minutes of being wiped away.  I thanked God I had time to clean up the dust and didn’t have to rush breakfast because a baby was wailing to be fed or changed.  There was meat in the freezer to be thawed for dinner, eggs to be boiled for egg-salad sandwiches, and laundry to be folded in the dryer.

Thank you cards from the wedding are still waiting to be written, so I got all my supplies together, wrote seven of them, and rushed them out to the mailbox before the mail lady snuck up on me.  It was such a beautiful morning, not even humid, so I decided to go for my first walk since moving here.  (Sad, I know.)  I got some ice cold water and a cheese stick, put on my walking shoes, and set off for the quarter mile to the barn.  Everything was so beautiful – passing newly planted trees in the neighbor’s yard, the small creek that runs through our property, and the old chicken coop.  I made it just in time as my husband pulled the tractor and wagon full of manure (nice…) out of the driveway.  A real farmer’s wife!  Bringing him a little snack and some cold water after he’s worked so hard.

We chatted briefly as he showed me the bald tires on the tractor and told me what he still needs to do this morning.  Sometimes when he talks about his farming tasks, I just smile and nod.  It’s confusing to me and I’m trying to learn, but if he tries to explain and I don’t get it, we both get frustrated.  So I smile and nod like I understand completely.  One of these days it’s all going to start making sense, I’m sure of it.

79 degrees in March!

He offered to drive me home on the tractor, but I really wanted the little bit of exercise I was getting so I sent him on his way to repair the leaky tire.  When I got back to the house, I poured a big glass of water and turned on a fan in the living room to help cool off.  I can’t believe how hot I got on my little walk – we never imagined we’d need air conditioning in March, so we haven’t gotten an air conditioner yet.

And now here I sit, ready to write more thank you cards, wondering who’s driving the truck that just passed by on our little country road, finishing up my blog, and wondering if any of you will care about it at all.  Should I include the part about the pregnancy test?  Is that sharing too much?  I can just see those who’ve struggled with fertility cringing.

Eh, I’m going to leave it in.  There’s nothing wrong with wanting babies and finding out you have to wait another month or longer.  We had to wait a long time to find each other, and I’m all too aware that many couples struggle to have children and even struggle to be chosen as adoptive parents.  So I whisper a prayer to God, that I will love and serve Him even if He doesn’t send us children.  But please, Lord, please…  How we would love to be parents some day.

Now, the thank you cards will have to wait a little longer because it’s time to start browning the hamburger for dinner.  On the farm, lunch is “dinner”.  Dinner is “supper.”

Manure spreading and all, it’s been a good morning.

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