I was talking to a friend recently about my blog. He mentioned it’s been neat to see the change of tone here reflecting the change of tone in my life.
I kept thinking about that phrase after he said it and just how appropriate and accurate that description is.
The waiting is over. Hope came to fruition. Our years of tears and sorrows through infertility has ended. It doesn’t make me less infertile. I’ll still never get to conceive our child and grow him or her in my womb; get to experience the joy and anguish of labor; and (probably never) get to experience exclusive breastfeeding.
God grew our family in a different way than I was expecting, differently than I had planned my whole growing up. And even though I won’t get those particular joys, the joy I feel with my sweet son is a hundred fold. I sometimes wonder what I would have been like has I gotten pregnant right away. I’ve come to a few conclusions I think may be accurate:
1. My world would have been all about my child. I could see myself having been that mom that literally ONLY talks about her child, that doesn’t really listen to others because there’s so much neat stuff her child is doing that is really so much more important than anything else in your life.
2. With that last one, I would completely misunderstand anyone going through infertility or who had lost a child. I would be the person who views it at arms length thinking “how awful!” and “I can’t even imagine” instead of gripping those people tight and saying “yes, I know. I’ve been there” or in the case of loss “I’ve experienced a small taste of what you’re going through. It is heartbreaking but I know God is good.” I would be annoyed at how long the grieving process is and not get why my bulging belly and talking about my child all the time may be isolating.
3. I would still have a tight grip on my life and think I have control, which is an illusion. I would think if I tried hard enough, if I had enough faith, God would bless me and help my own little kingdom grow.
When I look at that, the price of sanctification seems more than worth it. Yes infertility was hard. It was really, really hard. But without it, my heart would have been harder. I would have been more self sufficient, more prone to depending on my own strength.
And so I live in this strange place. Savoring the long awaited moments with my son, reveling in the joys of motherhood. But yet not wanting to forget where I came from, the huge work God has done in my heart and head. Like John Owen said “grace decays.” If I’m not continually reminding myself of the gospel and the the goodness of God, I’m prone to forget. I’m prone to forget my past and live in the day to day; to think I’ve achieved something on my own rather than every good gift coming from God; to be content with the joys of motherhood instead of them pointing me to the vast beauty and riches of life and joy we have in our Savior.
God is working all the time. We don’t always get to see the result of it, but when we do? It’s spectacular.