It has been a long 3 year road to this hysterectomy. The walking toward it was worse than the 3 days so far that I’ve endured walking through it.
In the walking towards, I was tortured by the what, when, why, and how questions. I constantly asked myself and God if this was the right thing to do.
You can imagine that all my emotions didn’t play nice when I would ask the hard questions of what it meant to be a woman who can’t have children.
On top of that truth, I knew that every month my body would do its womanly thing with more commitment than the average female due to endometriosis and fibroids. Draining me of iron, energy, health, and hope.
I had been pregnant once early in my marriage.
I miscarried Mother’s Day weekend.
I had surgery so the Dr could tell me what was going on.
I heard him say that my fallopian tubes were fully blocked with endometriosis scarring and the chance of me ever being pregnant again was not likely.
In that moment, I also heard God. “Don’t take this out of my hands.”
My heart was reassured. If God wanted me to have children, I would. No earthly news could change the power of God and His plan.
I assumed His plan would be to answer.
There are lots of miracle baby stories, right? Why would the ending to my story be different?
I would be desperately lying if I said that the last 7 years have not been full of hoping, asking, wondering, grieving, praying, and crying.
During that time, my body became something that could not be trusted and my overall health suffered.
It’s signs or inconsistencies were not reliable and caused so much heartache and confusion in the “am I pregnant this month” arena. Believe me, for years, every month when I’d bleed, the wound of loss would re-open.
I found myself saying, “not this month” but then I started asking God “what if it’s never?”
Some people may say this was despair. And partly it was. But I think it was also the knowledge that sometimes God doesn’t answer.
I knew that if He didn’t answer, it didn’t mean He wasn’t good, or that He didn’t love me.
My faith knew the lies but my experience tried hard to change my faith. So what could this all mean?
Honestly, I don’t think we ask God the question enough of what it means when He doesn’t answer.
Most of us stop at the point of waiting and hoping. We live with these broken places that hold despair and we never let God in until He comes carrying what we want.
I got to the point where I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I just knew I wanted to freely live the life God had created for me to live.
Too many years had passed in brokenness for me. I hadn’t been living. I’d been waiting.
I’m still in the process of letting God into all my broken places, but the most important thing I’ve learned so far is that God has not withheld something from me.
This isn’t His Plan B for my life. This is His plan. To walk intimately with me through every moment that I let him take my hand.
I’m walking the road He has for me. I took the time I needed to walk toward Tuesday so that I had no more questions. And I know I didn’t give up. On Him.
A friend asked me if my life would give God more glory if He answered my prayer for a child or if He didn’t.
What a great question. I don’t know that I have the answer, but I do know that God has never wasted my suffering. It’s never been just for me.
So, maybe I’m walking this through so others can see that it’s possible to live too. To live intimately and joyfully with God in spite of the broken unanswered places.
The surgery is complete. It’s over.
I don’t know what life will look like now.
I do know that the hope I now have in Him is better than the questions that tortured me for years.
So onward I go…
I walked to it and now, each day, I will walk through it.