There is one thing I know. It is that my problems with fertility did not begin when RG died. It would be easy to conclude that they did because we have been actively trying to have a child for six months, and when we did conceive, our baby died. My God, that is depressing.
But this was not RG's fault, and it didn't start with him. And this is how I realize, slowly, just how much of a miracle our toddler is. A was totally "unplanned," though I DETEST that concept. She was planned; it's just that she was planned by God and not by us. We have always been open to His plan for life, and she came at a time when most people would dread a baby. I was in my first semester of graduate school, and she came two weeks before finals. But PRAISE GOD she did. Praise the LORD, oh my soul. And she truly is a miracle, because my symptoms of PCOS were present when I was a teenager.
It's just that I didn't learn that I had some variant of PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) until after RG died. And it was only after he died that I really understood how much A was a complete act of God in our lives.
And, as much as I appreciate that intervention, and praise God for it, it makes me sad. It makes me sad to realize that I have absolutely no control over whether or when I have my children. That is one of the mini-crosses of infertility.
You might say, "well, you don't have to be such a control freak." I realize that. I mean, I think that is one of the overall lessons I need to internalize from this situation. That particular control is not something I ought to expect. Life is God's alone, and He lends it to us so graciously. But, he lends it to most women with a lot more freedom. At least that is how it feels to me. They get to choose how to space their babies, they get to choose when to start and stop having children, they get to choose how many they will have. (Secondary to this point is the fact that a majority of Western women completely abuse this freedom and this gift, but that is not the point of this post--I'll rant on that another day, I'm sure.) However, I do not. The Lord has seen fit that I do not get this freedom.
I call it freedom because I truly believe, with the Church, that freedom is not the ability to do whatever I want; it is the free ability to choose the Good, and to reject evil. It is not to be a slave to sin. Therefore, I have not been allowed the freedom to choose the Good of children. Of course, realizing this hurts me. It makes me question "why" and "why me?" Why me, when I try to be so faithful. So open to You, Lord. You allow other mothers to have that freedom and then they kill their babies in the womb. But for me, You have other plans. Part of what pierces my soul is that I cannot imagine, Lord, what these other plans are, if they are not to have children to raise up to You on earth. This is not at all the way I envisioned my life. This is not the way I thought You would envision my life. But. My life is not about me.
There is another woman I know whose life turned out to be something far different than I am sure she imagined it would be. She was young when she had her first child, and she never had another child after that. And, while her son didn't die in the womb, he died a horrible death as a young man; and she had to watch it happen. God saw fit for her to only bear one child, and He was Jesus, THE word, THE source of life itself.
Please note that I am not meaning to compare myself to Our Lady's holiness, nor my children to the Lord Jesus. I am merely trying to say that if God envisioned Mary's life to only include one child, one who would die before her, and whose life, in its course, would pierce her heart seven times, then that kind of suffering is good enough for me, too. Mary suffered so much. So so much. And yet, God loved her infinitely. I know that He must love me if he allows me such suffering.
Lord, my God, I offer up this pain, this sorrow, this ache for motherhood, for all those babies whose mothers abandon them, whose mothers reject them, whose mothers kill them through abortion. I offer it up for the sorrows of Mary, and for all those mothers who don't even get to have one child, a blessing which I have been so greatly given. I give You the version of my life I had thought was Your Will. I beg you to exchange it for the one You intend for me. I beg you to make me ready for it, and worthy of it. Fiat. Fiat. Fiat!