Adopted and Loved

I was staring at the latest picture of Blake today, the one where he’s sucking his precious little thumb and has his other hand tucked up so adorably by his face, and I couldn’t help but feel incredibly, immeasurably, undeservedly blessed.

I have a human being living inside of me.  God has gifted Adam and I with a little boy, and in August, we’ll get to bring him into the world.

I wrote a blog post I never published months and months ago talking about how infertility has softened my heart. I wrote about all the ways God has changed me and revealed little snippets of my own character that He needed me to work on.  He’s drawn me into Himself, and in doing so, stripped me of the blinders we so often can have when it comes to our own life.  And I’ve learned a lot.

The biggest lesson by far has been the way this journey has changed my outward view.  Walking through infertility has made me want to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve and instead wear the heart of my Savior.  God has given me a profound desire for a heart that listens more and judges less.

And that’s big, because it hasn’t always been me.

If you know me, then you know I’m an opinionated person. I’m passionate, and I believe in things strongly.  My heart breaks over abortion.  Nothing fires me up more than a good political debate.  I’m conservative in every sense of the word.  My husband calls me his firecracker (lovingly, I’m sure) and at times I have been known to be a bit sassy.  I come by these traits honestly (ahem, mom and dad) but I also know that they don’t necessarily reflect the heart of my Savior.
 
People don’t change because you yell at them. Hearts aren't softened by boisterous condemnation.  I can't change a life by judging an action.  Jesus came as a servant King.  He loved, and that’s what we’re called to do as well. 

And loving doesn’t have to mean agreeing.  Rather, it’s a conscious decision to love the person and let God deal with the sin.  How else can we be God’s transparent messengers of the Light in this dark, dark world?  It’s easy to condemn when you’ve never walked through the fire.  It’s easy to judge someone when you’ve never walked in their shoes.

And in light of all that, I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how different people approach infertility.

After walking down this road myself, I am profoundly aware that at some point, as believers in Christ, each of our paths split and morph into the unique journey that God has allowed, laid out, for each of us.  I absolutely believe that, and I can support and encourage the journeys of others around me even though they may not mirror my own.  Why?  Because God made us individuals.  He made our stories unique.  I recently went to dinner with two dear friends, and one of them put it this way: since God dwells in each of us, our relationships with Him are personal.  I can’t fathom His relationship or the whispered guidance He gives to others, and others simply can’t fathom His relationship with me.  That’s God’s plan, His design, to enter into the intimacy of relationship with each of us.

Even with knowing that, and believing that, it’s hard for me to deal well with people who look at my story, at the path Adam and I have walked, and want to judge.  Who want to somehow diminish the life of my son because of the way he was conceived.

In the past month, I encountered some very harsh criticism that hurt.  It hurt because I’m a people-pleaser.  I’m also human, and part of being human is caring about what other people think of you.  And I’m also a mom.  And as a mom, when you talk about my kid, you’d better be prepared for the claws.

And yes, it all relates back to IVF.

I’m not going to name names and I’m not going to point fingers, but I am going to share some of what was said.  I think it’s important, because I know I’m not alone in the path God has led me down, and I also know that my story is not my own.  I didn’t pick this path for myself, I never imagined myself on it, but nonetheless God has used it time and time again and allowed us the honor and joy of proclaiming His goodness and mercy and His manifested faithfulness in all three of our lives.  I am absolutely committed to being that transparent witness for what He has done for me, and this blog is one way I do that.

So I want to share more with you.

When Adam and I found out that our best chances for pregnancy were through IVF, our immediate reaction was one of fear.  I’ve blogged about that in the past.  We had visions of sextuplets, selective reduction and discarded embryos flashing through our heads, and we looked at each other and thought: no way this could be happening to us.

It was surreal.

In those early days, we were defined by our fear of the unknown.  We cried in each other’s arms, we renewed our interest in adoption, we tried to picture our family as forever just the two of us.  And through all of that, in each scenario, it felt wrong.  We weren’t fulfilled.  The God-given desire of our heart was for a family of our own; babies that were half of me and half of him.  And so we got on our knees.  We prayed that God would lead.  We prayed for the courage to go where led.  We prayed for a miracle.

There was so much God-stuff that happened during those days of fear.  I’ve blogged about it all before, so I won’t repeat myself, but what I will say is that God’s voice was clear.  We knew that God had laid this path out for us.  We knew His hand was upon this journey, and when God moves…it’s best to move with Him.

So we did.  And He led us to IVF.

I want to pause here because so often I read blogs or commentaries or articles about IVF as the “easy choice”. Couples who choose IVF are taking "the easy way out."  I’d bet my next paycheck that anyone writing those words has never experienced in vitro, because let me tell you what, it’s no easy choice.  There are a million considerations. It’s emotional, it’s physical…it's everything.  It's the commitment to a dream; a commitment to the lives of babies you have never met, and yet are wholly in love with.  There are no limits to how far I’d go to protect that.  I’d do anything. My life is secondary.  And I think that does reflect the heart of my Savior.  After all, He went to the Cross for me.  That’s the ultimate example of sacrificial love.

So when I ran across an article discussing IVF in a horribly negative light (and I use "ran across" loosely...it was dropped in my lap in a purposeful way), I was really offended.  The article referred to IVF babies as “a product” brought into the world devoid of any love relationship between mother and father.  A product?  Blake just kicked me out of sheer indignation at the thought, and I’ll come back to that in a minute.

The person who shared the article also shared her thoughts that IVF carries with it the necessary acceptance of a certain loss.  I would answer that with a question: Isn’t that what earthly love is? When you choose to love someone here on earth, you accept that at some point in the future you will lose them or they will lose you. You choose to put your heart and soul into loving someone for whatever time God gives you with them on this earth. Not one day is a given, no tomorrow is certain, and yet we choose everyday to give up that control to the One who has numbered all of our days from before we were ever conceived. That’s love, and it’s always worth the risk.

In our case, there just aren’t words to describe how it feels to long for the babies that we have yet to meet. We wanted them all, and we entrusted their lives to the Father long ago. They are our babies, the children we prayed for, and we rest in the assurance that this earth is not their home anymore than it is ours. We can’t wait to meet them, and the promise of that day to come is very real in our hearts.

Is that the acceptance of a certain loss?  Not at all, because we haven’t lost them.  Our reunion is still to come, and it will be so, so sweet.

This person also wrote that IVF is presumptive of God’s gifts. There's so much I could say here.

I think it’s presumptive to assume that anyone can possibly hope to know God’s plan for the lives of others. I think it’s presumptive to imply in any way that the life of my son was spoken into existence by anyone other than his Creator.  That he is somehow "less" of a human or lacking a soul because of the path he took into our arms.  As a mom, I have a strong desire to defend my son.  But thank you sweet Jesus that I don’t need to.  Blake’s life speaks for itself. God’s amazing mercy and grace speaks through him, because Blake is His child, and God knew from the beginning of time the exact path Blake would take into this world. And that plan for his life was perfect, because it was ordained by the Father.

And everything I just wrote is exactly what I told the person who originally posted the article. 

So why am I sharing all of this?  Because I know we all struggle with doubts.  Because I know there are always going to people who want to engage in a shouting match to see whose voice echoes the loudest.  It's human nature.  We're imperfect, and all too often that imperfection brings us into head-on collisions with one another.

But we don't have to be a slave to it.

I'm not defined by what someone else thinks of me.  I serve a God who enters into relationship with us, who loves us wholly and uniquely, and who desires the same in return.  His ways are mysterious, and His panoramic squashes my Polaroid every time.  So I let Him define me. 

I don’t have all the answers.  I know that our path is not the path for everyone, and I respect and honor those couples who feel a different pull on their hearts.  Why?  Because it’s relational.  God uses our stories and our journeys in different ways, and that’s the beauty of His design.

What I do know is that God is my carpenter, and He’s still pounding out the imperfections so that my heart may mirror His.  Until that time, I pray that He makes me pliable, not rigid, so that His work may be done in and through me.