“So I pray that God, who gives you hope, will keep you happy and full of peace as you believe in him. May you overflow with hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13
Here are the gory details.
In August, I went to the doctor for my annual check-up. After some routine questions and answers during my exam, my doctor voiced her concerns about a couple of health issues, based on symptoms that I’d been experiencing. Ultrasounds, a sonohysterogram, and even an MRI were scheduled, along with a follow-up visit with a specialty doctor, and the verdicts from all were the same: a large fibroid had made itself at home in my uterus.
Ack. A fibroid. Doesn’t it sound ugly, like a big, slimy alien-like something inside me? Super. It was large, and had enlarged my uterus to the size of a 12 week pregnancy. So large that the specialist recommended surgery to remove it. If I would get pregnant, he explained, there would be no room for the baby to grow.
After having time to digest the diagnosis, I felt myself getting angry. Women get pregnant every day, with no issue whatsoever, and here am I, having to go through a major surgery first. And what if something happened during the surgery to prevent me from being able to get pregnant afterward? OK, so my mind was in pity-party mode. Every day. Every hour.
The more I thought about my situation, the more my heart felt like it was being crushed. And that was officially the point when I lost it. I felt so…disappointed. Broken. Forgotten. Hopeless. And as I was in the car driving home from work one day, it hit me that for the first time in my life, I truly had to lean on Jesus when all my hope was gone. I’d had the thing that I longed for – the chance to have a baby – taken completely out of my hands, and the only thing I had to cling to was the knowledge that the Lord was there to pick up the pieces of my broken hopes and dreams.
It took that fibroid to make me realize that when I am truly in a dark, hopeless place, God is with me, and He holds me while I thrash around, kicking and screaming. And when I’m done, He gently picks up the pieces of my broken heart and broken hopes and puts me back together, in a way that makes me stronger in Him than I’ve ever been. So now I am done worrying, done asking “what if” in my head, done having my pity party. I know that whatever comes from this situation is God’s best for Jon and me, and we don’t have to be hopeless anymore.
And that’s where I’m at today. Yesterday surgery was scheduled: Tuesday, October 5 in Omaha. I don’t know what the future holds. The doctors all say that we’ll be able to have kids with no problem. I hope that after the surgery is behind me, we’ll be able to have a baby…but maybe we won’t. Or maybe we’ll have a dozen. Maybe the Lord will open doors for adoption. I don’t know. And I’m ok with that. I don’t have to know what lies down the road, as long as I know I don’t have to travel it alone.
I have hope, and for now, that’s enough.