Infertility, revisited

I've written about infertility more times than I can count, and yet, as I sit down to write this post it just feels different.   And I am very aware that the difference in this case is the 3-month-old miracle sleeping soundly down the hall.

I know how immeasurably we have been blessed.

But as I sit here, I'm letting my mind wander ahead to tomorrow, which will be December 1.  And I'm remembering that day one year ago.  It was a defining moment in our journey.  It was the day we became parents.  I'll never forget the feelings and emotions I had as we left the clinic that day, and as we approach the one-year anniversary, I find myself thinking about and reflecting on four itty bitty lives who are currently waiting for me in that frozen nursery.  I think about them, and my heart flutters in anxious, eager anticipation. 

Today I am so cognizant and aware that our journey isn't over.  In fact, the majority of it is still head. 

As soon as Blake was born, we did two things.  We set up a college fund for him, and we set up an OHSU fund for his brothers and sisters.  We're going back in the summer of 2012.  If all goes as planned, we'll make a final trip to OHSU (hopefully with a lot of babies in tow) in 2014.  Statistically speaking, each of our frozen babies will have their best shot in the baby-maker before I turn 30.   And because we are committed to them wholly and completely as their parents, and because I'm young enough for the timing to work out, that's our plan.

That's our plan.  Even writing that sentence makes me cringe, because I know that my plan means nothing.  I know that writing the words won't make it come true.  After all, our plan was to have had our first baby two years ago.  Our plan was to have two pairs of little feet running around the house by 2012.  

But our plan was flawed. 

It was imperfect.  And all those months of waiting were not in vain, because while we thought we were waiting for a baby...we weren't.   

We were waiting for Blake.

And that wait was perfect, and beautiful, and necessary.  Today, my eyebrows do funny contortions when my friends tell me about their "plan" for having babies.  While there's nothing wrong with preparing for the future and setting goals, if I've learned anything on this journey it's that my plan all along should have been complete surrender to His plan.  

So now, as we gear up for our next tango in this ongoing infertility dance in 2012, I'm feeling deeply contemplative.  It's hard, even now, to downplay the anxious thoughts that fill my heart.  Infertility is brutal.  It never gets easier.  After Blake was born, my doctor wanted to put me on birth control.  But there was no need.  I can't get pregnant on my own.  That fact always hits like a slap in the face, even though I've learned not to let it sting.  I've embraced this facet of my life as an integral part of who I am, who God made me to be, and I am willing to lean in eagerly with every step that I take in step with my Savior.

I know this is the path that God laid out for my feet to travel.  I know He has walked beside me every step of the way and remained faithful in my darkest days.  I don't feel the same fear I felt all those many months ago when we were waiting for our first miracle.  This time around, it's different.  Maybe, in some ways, the emotions are amplified because I know what's at stake.  Four little humans who are wholly mine.  My precious babies.  Blake's brothers and sisters.  I feel this season so deeply because I want them all. 

And so I'm spending this anniversary week--their anniversary week--in prayer.  For our future.  For our family.  For the babies who have now been on this earth for 1 full year and who I'm still longing to meet.  I think about them all time, wondering if they'll look like their older brother or if any of them will have green eyes like me.  They are all so precious to me, so much already a part of our family.  And yet, they aren't here with us.   

I've always found the waiting to be the hardest part, because it is so unknown.  But instead of dwell in the unknown, I'm choosing to dwell in the known:  

I know that God has the perfect plan for my family, and that it was ordained since the beginning of time. 

I know that our waiting has never been, nor ever will be, in vain

I know that my babies, born and unborn, are loved and cherished by the Father.   

I know that He has already counted all the hairs that have yet to grow on their little heads

I know that He had numbered their days long before any of us were ever born, and that nothing that happens on this earth can ever change the plan He had for their lives

And I know and trust in His timing

When I look into the eyes of my son it's like God is whispering in my ear, reminding me of all I'll ever need to know:  Your waiting has never been in vain.  You were waiting for this little boy, the one I intended for you.  I take faith in that, choosing to believe and trust that this journey has already been played out in the eyes of my Savior.  He knows my family and each member that is to be added to it.  And I know that His master plan is perfect.  As we enter into this next leg of our infertility journey, we do so with anxious anticipation as we await the grand reveal.

We're not waiting for a baby, we're waiting for our babies.  And so we will wait.  Because we are already so, so in love.

In God We Trust....right?

I've been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between an all-encompassing, all-powerful God and….science.   

Cue dramatic music here.

It’s a show stopper, right?

Maybe not.

Science and religion, or a belief in an omnipotent God, are often portrayed as going head to head in this earthly battlefield for the hearts and minds of humanity.  But I don't believe they have to be.  Instead, I believe that science and faith are complementary.

We serve a complex God, and yet the Bible tells us that God cast us in his own image. Given we are intelligent, we can then imagine that we share this with a God who made us in “His own image”.  He gave us free will and a brain and He intended for us to use both.  Science is a natural offshoot of that gift, and without it—without the quest to understand the world around us using our God-given gifts of free will and intelligence—we could only ever operate at the whim of God.  But that’s not how God made us, and that's not what He wanted.  He didn’t mean for us to be mindless followers.  Instead, he gave us the ability to question, to explore and to learn.  In our humanity, God have us the free will we would need in order to choose to follow Him.  In our individual weakness God bestowed upon each of us incredible gifts that He intended we use to further His kingdom.  I believe it is through these spiritual gifts that we come to understand the connection between God and science. 

Even so, I am well aware that there are many believers in the world today with great faith who believe that science, and more specifically, the use of modern medicine, goes against the Divine plan for humanity.  While we know that God is the Great Healer,  does that mean that we should rely on divine healing to the exclusion of any other medical treatments?

If you believe that, then I have the following question for you:  If divine healing is ours as followers of Jesus Christ, why is it that some people, despite their great faith, do not get healed?

Let me use the example of little David Hickman, who was born two months early at his grandmother’s home and then died less than nine hours later when he had trouble breathing.  He was born with a bacterial infection and underveloped lungs.  His parents, rather than seek medical care, prayed and rubbed olive oil on their sick infant.  Despite their fervent prayers for his healing, David died. 

Medical experts have since testified that the baby had a 99 percent chance of survival had his parents sought medical care.

No matter what your (or my) opinion is of these parents’ actions, I believe one thing is very clear:  David's parents did not lack the faith to see their son healed.   They prayed.  They called their family and church elders to pray over the tiny baby.  I'm sure they loved him.   

So why wasn’t he healed?  Was it God’s will that the little boy should die?

This example begs two wider questions:

Does the Bible promise physical healing?

Isaiah 53 is an often quoted passage when it comes to divine healing. Verses 4 - 5 in particular read:

“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.  But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

These verses are sometimes used as a reference to our spiritual, rather than physical, healing. And I can see that.  But if we look at these verses in conjunction with Matthew 8:17, where Isaiah is quoted in direct reference to the physical healings that Jesus fulfilled, I think a new picture is painted of physical healing:

“When evening came, many who were demon-possessed were brought to him, and he drove out the spirits with a word and healed all the sick. This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah: "He took up our infirmities and carried our diseases." (Isa 53:4)

Furthermore, writing about 30 years after the death of Jesus, James reiterated.

Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. (James 5:14-15 NIV)

Clearly, the Bible teaches that God is still in the healing business. Physical healing from sickness and disease is part of what Jesus accomplished for us by his life, death and resurrection.

So, let’s move on. 

Does seeking medical treatment or taking medicine contradict my belief in divine healing?

I am fully aware that there are some Christians who understand the taking of medical treatment as a demonstration of disbelief in God's word. After all, Jesus never sent anyone to the doctor, right?

In my opinion, this over looks the fact that doctors in those days were very primitive. We do, however, know that doctors did exist because Luke, the writer of the Gospel of Luke, was a doctor himself (Colossians 4:14).

Truly, medical treatment has come a long way since the days of Jesus. But even in the early church not all sickness benefited from divine intervention. Paul left someone sick at Miletus (2 Timothy 4:20) and Timothy was advised to take a little wine for medical purposes (1 Timothy 5:23). Epaphroditus, a co-worker with Paul, fell sick and nearly died (Phil 2:25-28). None of these hindered Paul from believing in divine healing.

Paul had a respectable record of praying for the sick and witnessing many of them receive their healing from the Lord. Just read the following accounts in Acts (14:8-18; 16:16-18; 19:11-12; 20:7-12; 28:1-9). Even today, despite the many false and exaggerated claims to divine healing, genuine cases do exist. 

The truth of the matter is that Paul had a healthy understanding of the different ways in which God can intervene to restore us to health.

It’s important as followers of Christ to understand that the gift of healing is not the only gift available and promised to us. There is also the gift of wisdom (1 Corinthians 12:1-11). As followers of Christ, we are entrusted with the wisdom to address problems that arise in this life.  We can get ourselves into serious trouble when we put God in a box and expect him to heal us in only one particular way.  Let us not forget that God is the inventor of modern medicine.  Can God choose to heal through divinity?  Absolutely.  But God may also choose to heal through the use of science, and that’s no less miraculous. 

So in answer to my own question; no, I don't believe that seeking medical care contradicts my belief in a God of miracles.  Rather, I believe it is an act of faith and obedience.   As a follower of Christ, my greatest charge is to make decisions for my family that pair the gift of wisdom with my understanding and faith in my God as the Great Healer.  God works in mysterious ways, but it's not up to me to define what that looks like.