Five days ago, I had a hysterectomy. In January, my doctor told me that the disease in my uterus was getting worse, and that my ovaries did not respond well to the meds last year, so the chances of getting pregnant, even with IVF ($$$$) would only be around 15%. My pain was becoming daily, and I was losing at least a week of my life every month as I had my menstrual cycle. So, we made this decision.
My physical recovery is going well. I'm tired, which is to be expected, and a little sore, but the pain is not terrible. Emotionally, I am just starting to process things.
I will never get pregnant. I no longer have a womb. Over the years, I asked God to open my womb more times than I can count. But now, that miracle cannot happen. I will never get to find out if I could handle natural childbirth like my mom did.
I also never have to cry with crashing disappointment each month after scrutinizing every physical twinge or symptom in my body searching for a morsel of hope. Oh, I imagine there will still be tears of disappointment and frustration. I don't fantasize that adoption or surrogacy will be smooth sailing. I guess the truth is, we don't grow without pain. Pain opens us and stretches us and allows us to be healed, stronger than we were before.
Ernest Hemingway wrote, "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places." I do feel broken. I've felt broken many times in my life. And those areas of pain are now the areas God uses the most to help others. I will have a child, and hopefully two or three children. I believe that God is using my pain to make me the mother He needs me to be.
When I was in graduate school to become a mental health counselor, I knew that I could have rushed through my program, made good grades, and graduated within about 2 years. Instead, I decided that it was more important that I become the person I needed to become, the person God needed me to be to help those He chooses to bring into my life. It took me 4 years to finish a "2 year" program, and I do believe that those extra two years make a world of difference in my work and life today.
The pain is part of the process. I am becoming the mother God needs me to be to the children He has for us. I don't know how or when those children will come into our lives, but they will arrive at just the right moment. My job now, though, is to process and acknowledge the pain and hurt. To experience my emotions, not ignore them. To accept the work that God is doing in me. And to continue to accept and trust His love, even when it doesn't make sense.
