Marriage

For Nothing is Impossible with God: An Update on Our Journey with Infertility

ejobe16Leave a comment

This is a post written during my pregnancy with Madeleine that I had not gotten a chance to publish.

Many of you may know by now that we are expecting our first child. It took 698 miles, over twelve months of blood draws, over twelve months on progesterone and estrogen, nine months of Clomid, two months of Femara, two ultrasounds, one HSG, one laparascopic surgery for endometriosis, but one year, nine months, and 30 days later the Lord has answered our prayers. Baby Jobe will be with us by mid July 2018! We cannot begin to describe our gratitude and our joy. I wanted to take a moment to reflect on all that has brought us to this moment.

In late September of 2017, we travelled to St. Louis to see Dr. Patrick Yeung, a surgeon specializing in endometriosis. Our regular doctor, Dr. Mattingly, felt that since other treatment wasn’t working, that perhaps endometriosis was the culprit of the symptoms I was experiencing. We know I had low progesterone and estrogen, and endometriosis was the only probable cause of those and other symptoms. We were hopeful that the surgery would provide us with answers and prove to be the treatment I had needed.

We are grateful for the love and care we received while in St. Louis. Since my extended family lives there, we were able to visit with nearly everyone before the day of my surgery and stayed with one set of my grandparents. After a day of testing and exams, Dr. Yeung scheduled me for surgery. The morning of my surgery, we headed to the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis. I was incredibly nervous, and the stillness of the Cathedral helped me to feel more at ease. I reflected on the past week, on recieving the anointing of the sick, and on the hopes and dreams that Nicholas and I share for our family. I thought about our frustration at the lack of answers, and hoped for the best. I knew God was asking us to walk with this Cross for a reason, but sometimes it was difficult to see the blessings in the midst of the pain.

The doctors and nurses that took care of me were incredible. They put my worries at ease, making me laugh and smile when I was nervous. In between the constant parade of different persons coming into the room, Nicholas and I prayed together. I prayed holding the rosary he had made for me for our wedding. He matched this rosary to my wedding dress, and put on it the medals of all the patron saints for those desiring children. Dr. Yeung even came in before surgery to pray with us, asking that God guide his hands and that the surgery would prove fruitful.

Of what they removed, only three spots were endometriosis. After the surgery, Nicholas and I decided to take a break from all of my medications, with the exception of progesterone, for a few months. We felt a deep peace about this decision and looked forward to having some time to focus simply on enjoying each other and growing in our marriage.

I have often been told that “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Well, it was the month after my surgery, and I knew any baby we could be blessed with that month would be due in July. I told God that I was perfectly fine waiting until September or October of 2018 for a baby to come, since that would let me work over the summer more easily. The one month, I told God, that I did not want a baby to come, was July—but, of course I would still be overjoyed. I just wanted to let God know that there was no rush.

On November 8th, 2016, I saw two lines on a pregnancy test for the first time. I screamed, I sobbed, and then I calmed down enough to think that I should call the doctor. Thinking the test would be negative, I had taken it while Nick was at work, which meant I had four hours before I could tell him. These were the longest four hours of my life. I ran out to get my blood drawn, and then went to Target to buy two baby hats: one pink and one blue. I made the bed, and put these in a gift bag in our room with a card. And then I waited.

When Nicholas arrived home, I took him upstairs. As he opened the gift bag, he began to sob. That very weekend, I had seen him tear up after watching a number of small children in our parish play during mass. He told me later that he desired so much to be a father, and that infertility had been weighing on him lately. At first, he didn’t believe that it could be true, and Nick asked me, “Is this a joke?” I had to assure him that it wasn’t a joke, that I had called the doctor, and that our baby was coming in July.

Infertility has forever changed how we will view our children. We have a deep understanding that no person is entitled to a child, and that children are undeserved gifts from our Lord. It has changed how I experience pregnancy as well. I have been able to thank God for the fatigue, the nausea, the hunger, and the other symptoms I experience. I am able to view these experiences joyfully, and offer them for others carrying the cross of infertility, miscarriage, and infant loss. To those that are still struggling with infertility, you are always in our prayers and in our hearts.

Struggling with infertility has shown me just how broken I am. I frequently attempt to do things alone, without the help of others, but I have learned that this is a struggle I cannot handle by myself. When I tried to deal with this alone, it hurt Nicholas and me. Infertility has humbled me. I have learned that I am easily overwhelmed and that I am frequently inflexible. I have learned that I have issues with control; I want to be in control, but I cannot be. I must surrender and give all things to Christ. Struggling with infertility has allowed me to experience a vulnerability with my spouse and with others that I would not have otherwise known.

Now, pregnancy challenges me to let go of control. It has challenged me to rely on Nick to do more of the cooking and cleaning than I would normally let him do. It has broken down my pride and helped me to realize that I cannot do any of this alone. I do not fully understand why Christ let us carry the cross of infertility, nor do I fully understand the timing of his answer to our prayers. I do know, however, that our journey with infertility is not over, in a way. I have learned that I cannot plan the future, and that it is possible that we will struggle with infertility again after our first child comes. Earlier in pregnancy, I was very worried about the possibility of miscarriage. Through these crosses, Christ has called Nicholas and me into a deeper trust. We cannot know the plans the Lord has in mind for us, but I do know that they are plans for good.

For although the journey has been difficult and sometimes painful, there have always been moments of immense joy. We have prayed, and the Lord has answered our prayers. We look forward to welcoming Baby Jobe into our arms, and teaching him or her that truly, nothing is impossible with God.

During the next few weeks, I will be publishing some pieces reflecting on infertility that I had intended to publish earlier, but was unable to do so due to technical issues. I still hope to take the time to make Visitation Bible Study a reality, as it is a project close to my heart. Over the next few months, I will be expanding the topics covered in my blog to reflect the broader experiences we have had with infertility and pregnancy.

An Experience with Faithfulness

ejobe16Leave a comment

I was around 13 weeks pregnant when a friend, upon hearing that we were expecting and knowing of our struggles with infertility, looked at me and asked me,

“What has your experience of God’s faithfulness been throughout this journey?”

I stared. My mind was blank. The Lord’s faithfulness? The thought had barely crossed my mind. I was just then beginning to make plans for this baby, to truly begin to believe that this little one would make it into our arms. I had been blessed by very little morning sickness, but I was exhausted and constantly hungry until around the 9th or 10th week of my pregnancy. When I wasn’t trying to figure out what I to eat or overcome by exhaustion, I was constantly praying for the safety of our little one.

As I struggled to answer her, I realized that despite our immense joy and gratitude, that thus far, I had spent most of my pregnancy consumed with worry. Fear was waiting in the wings, always ready to come out and turn my joy to anxiety. Even on days with relatively little worry, I worried about our experience with having our next child. I dwelled on the possibility of secondary infertility. Some that knew us asked us how we felt now that our journey with infertility was “over.”

In my heart, though, our journey with infertility was far from over.

I had yet to truly open my heart to Christ. He had blessed us with this immense and incomprehensible gift, and yet, my heart still felt broken and shattered. I was consumed with “what ifs” and the darkness of the unknown. I prayed constantly for our little one. I prayed for the grace of baptism to be given to our child, I asked for the protection of our child’s guardian angel, I looked up week by week miscarriage statistics, I tried not to worry at every new pain, all while trying to hold it together and be as joyful as others expected me to be.

That question shattered the facade and walls that I hadn’t even realized I was building.

Where was Christ in this? In the midst of all my worry, and yes, joy, what had I done in my life to seek Him? The question of Christ’s faithfulness began to swell up within my heart as my heart repeated and amplified the question as a resounding chamber echoes. In time, it became another question:

“How have I been faithful to Christ?”

I hadn’t been. Thoughts of planning and of worry took root in my heart where Christ’s love should have been. I allowed myself to be consumed with noise and distraction, content with a spiritual life of mediocrity. The noise of television and social media drowned out my worries, rather than turning to Christ and allowing His Mercy to pour over me as an ocean.

The realization hit me like lightning, and I was paralyzed. I was ashamed. I was angry with myself. For months, I had simply been going through the motions of my faith. I was numb to the reality of Christ’s immense Love and Mercy. I was too consumed with my own worries and my own faults. The way I had been living was not enough, and it had to change.

I poured my heart out to Christ that evening. I was brutally honest with Him about the worry that this child would not make it to our arms. I prayed over and over again, “Lord, you did not spare us from the Cross of Infertility. In your Mercy, I beg You, spare us from the Cross of Miscarriage. Yet not my will, but Thine be done in me.” I laid bare all the ways in which I knew I was failing Him and those around me. I confessed feeling empty and disconnected in prayer. It was a moment where I allowed myself to be vulnerable and to truly feel all the pain, hurt, anguish, worry, and fear I had carefully bottled up within my soul. I resolved to be more faithful to Christ, and asked His forgiveness.

To my surprise, Christ met me in that moment. When I allowed myself to be brought low, Christ came down to me and lifted me into His arms. Our Lord gave me a beautiful experience of His Grace. For the first time in my pregnancy, I felt peace. I felt hope. I felt an assurance that this child would be given the grace of Baptism, and I gave myself the emotional permission to be excited about our child’s future. I opened my heart, and Christ met me there in my brokenness. He began healing me from the wounds that I hadn’t realized were left from our experience of infertility. And I sobbed, because in that moment I was finally able to say, “Our Lord is faithful.”

All throughout Lent and into Easter, Christ has continued to show me His faithfulness. I have begun seeing that the Lord allows us to be brought low so that we can more fully realize our need for the Holy Spirit in our hearts. When we are small and entirely dependent upon Christ, we experience His Love all the more deeply.

So, what has my experience of the Lord’s faithfulness been throughout our journey with infertility?

Our Lord is gentle and merciful. He knows our hearts, and He knows exactly what we need in order to grow in holiness. Christ frequently gives us more than we ourselves can handle, but the Holy Spirit will walk with us and carry us through these pains if we allow Him. All of our sufferings in our journey with infertility have come with a clear lesson. I have grown in ways that I would not have if not for our experience with infertility. I am able to experience a deeper gratitude, not only for our child, but also for my spouse and for the daily little blessings of my life. I know that secondary infertility after this little one is still possible, but I know longer dwell on it. I know in my heart, that Christ’s plan for our family is greater than I could imagine, and so day by day, I strive to give control of our lives to God.

For the Lord does not allow Calvary without the Resurrection, whether that Resurrection be in this life or the next.

A Letter to my Future Children

ejobe16, , Leave a comment

When Nicholas and I decided to be open to children from the beginning of our marriage, we both hoped for the best. I could never have anticipated the heartbreak that has accompanied us on our journey towards having a child. I broke down the night after I took a negative pregnancy test during our fourth month of trying. And so as I knelt in front of our home oratory with tears streaming down my face, I felt a deep sense of loss. I had been so sure I was pregnant. I was heartbroken and crushed, and I started pouring my heart out in my journal. This letter to my children, whom I deeply longed to hold in my arms, is what resulted from that experience of loss. In a sense, It is this letter that marks the beginning of my journey with infertility. 

A letter to my future children, April 30 2016 

Oh my child, how I love you. I love you so dearly and my heart breaks that you are not yet with me. For I have loved you. Before God formed you in my womb, I knew you. I knew the tears I would shed for love and want of you. I anticipated the joy I would experience in finding out that you were coming. I anticipated the fear I would know as you grew. The pain as you were sick. My beloved child, before I was ever a mother, I loved you with a maternal love.

 I prayed for the joys and the sufferings. I poured out my heart to Christ. I saw you at once a child and grown, and my heart welled up with joy and sorrow.  

 I have consecrated your hearts to Christ and promise to raise you as saints. Yet even now I know I must commend you to your true mother, Mary. She will always protect you.

I am imperfect, and I may hurt you. Already this fills my heart with deep sorrow. I beg your forgiveness, my child, and ask you to commend me in prayer to Christ through the Blessed Mother.

 I cannot explain my love for you. I only know that I am your mother. You have always been a part of my heart and you always will be, even if you come to my arms through the sacrifice of another. You will always have a place in my arms and prayers. But until you can be in my arms, I hold you in my heart. But know that for me, you have always been here, though I cannot know the time or the way you will come to me.

I want to thank you for sanctifying me. I want to thank you for teaching me how to love. For though you are not yet in my arms, I know my beloved child, that you will lead me to Christ as I strive in my imperfection with the Blessed Mother to bring you to His Heart.

 My darling, I pray for you. I pray each day for you. I sometimes fail in my prayer life, but you are always in my heart. Never doubt how deeply you are loved and how much your father and I have desired you. For we have desired you with longing and pained hearts, but the wait is worth it.

 For though I love you my child, I do not love you enough. I can never give the love you truly deserve, for that love is the love of Christ. And it is only in His time that you, all of you, will come. But I know you will come. For I hope in the Lord. My Lord is my good shepherd, in Him I put my trust. My heart is waiting on the Lord, watching and waiting for my beloved children.

Love always,

Your Mama
This is the seventh post in a series for National Infertility Awareness Week. 

Entering into the Tomb

ejobe16, , , , , , , Leave a comment

During lent of last year, I began praying the Servite Rosary.  Rather than five decades of Hail Marys, each meditating on a portion of Christ’s life, the Servite Rosary has seven septets of Hail Marys, each meditating on a particular sorrow of Mary. I fell in love with the seven sorrows of Mary. I found a profound beauty in meditating on Mary’s suffering that gave a sense of purpose to my own crosses. I found comfort in knowing that Mary knew deep suffering and could guide me and love me in my own suffering. I admired her acceptance and love even in the face of unimaginable persecution.

The Seven Sorrows of Mary has its roots in Luke 2:34-35, “And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary His mother, ‘Behold, this Child is appointed for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and for a sign to be opposed— and a sword will pierce even your own soul—to the end that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed'” (emphasis in bold added). The image of the Sorrowful Mother, or Mater Dolorosa, finds its biblical roots in this passage. In this image of the Blessed Mother, we see Mary’s heart pierced by seven swords. The presentation of Christ in the temple is the first sorrow of Mary, as it is there that she learns of the suffering she is to endure. But her suffering is given a purpose, for through it “thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.” Mary’s suffering reveals the beauty in our own sufferings. She carries our hearts with her own to Calvary, so that our suffering may have purpose as well.

I was able to meditate on Mary’s obedience and acceptance during the Presentation of Jesus in the temple. During the second sorrow, the flight to Egypt, I meditated on the loss and anxiety that Mary felt, and her grief for all the children that had lost their lives. I prayed about the sense of failure, heartbreak, and loss that Mary and Joseph could have felt when Jesus was lost in the Temple. I tried to imagine the grief Mary felt when seeing her beloved Son under the weight of the cross. I thought about Mary’s tears and sharp pain and imagined her prayers as she stood at the foot of the cross. I contemplated the love and tenderness with which Mary looked at Jesus when He was laid in her arms after his death, trying to imagine Mary’s thoughts in that moment. But when it came to the seventh sorrow, Mary laying Jesus in the tomb, I was at a loss.

I didn’t know what to think about during this mystery. I didn’t know how to pray it well or relate to Mary in this moment. I felt lost as to how I should enter into Mary’s suffering in that moment. I felt that I was unable to relate to her suffering, and of course that remains true in a way. No other person can understand Mary’s grief in her son’s persecution and death. But we can use our own sufferings to try to enter into her journey with Mary, and when meditating on this particular suffering, I didn’t know how to enter the tomb.

Then when I was kneeling at our home oratory over the summer trying to pray through Mary laying Jesus in the tomb, and I felt her calling me to go deeper. 

As I reflected on Mary laying Jesus in the tomb, I tried to identify and understand her pain. Suddenly it became clear to me—Mary experienced barrenness. It felt as if for the first time, her womb was empty. The tomb became a physical manifestation of the pain of Mary’s heart. She bled and wept for her child. She could no longer hold Him in her arms. She felt emptiness and a deep longing.

Mary experienced barrenness after the death of her child. She had given birth to the Church, yet her heart felt alone and empty. She grieved the loss of her son, feeling powerless in the midst of her pain.
 Yet, she did not cease loving. Though her pain was no secret and the depths of it cannot be comprehended, she took others into her maternal heart, emptying herself. She did not despair, but hoped, trusting in her beloved Spouse, the Holy Spirit, to guide her amidst this barrenness. She trusted and hoped also in the Heavenly Father and her Son, recalling Simeon’s prophecy. Yet, the dagger pierced not only Her Heart, but Her Womb, and she bore with all women the pain of barrenness, the pain of loss, the desire for a child, for Her Son. And she wept upon bearing this pain for the whole world, wept for love of us, cleansing our impurities so that our wombs and hearts may be filled. She remained a mother though, even in the midst of her barrenness, and comforted the newly born Church. Her heart bled internally for us, yet she never ceased her prayer and her hope.

 And on the third day, her womb and her heart were full again. And so I too await the resurrection. I offer my pain to lessen the pains of the Blessed Mother, knowing that she pours her graces upon me as I rest in her womb and heart.

This is the sixth post in a series for National Infertility Awareness Week. 
The photo used today is an original image of Our Lady of Seven Sorrows done by Amberose Courville. 

 

 

Infertility as Disease: Accepting and Navigating the Medical Side of Infertility

ejobe16, , , , , , 2 Comments

It was my first Mother’s Day mass after being married.  The previous month I had an experience where I was sure I was pregnant. I can’t explain this experience, and no test I took that month was positive.  But the next cycle did arrive later than usual and with more pain than normal.  During the consecration, my husband and I began to sob.  We felt a sense of loss that we couldn’t explain, a sense of deep heartbreak. And then during the blessing for mothers, the priest saying mass didn’t include Godmothers or spiritual mothers, so I didn’t stand up for the blessing.  And I cried even more, because I so wanted to be able to stand up for that blessing.  It was after that experience, that my husband and I decided to seek medical help for fertility because of my medical history. Making that decision was very emotional for me, because it meant opening up a very private part of our lives to medical intervention.

Infertility is not merely a cross or a struggle.  It is a symptom of an underlying disease. According to RESOLVE, about 12% of married women (1 in 8 couples) have trouble getting pregnant or carrying a pregnancy to term.  Of those struggling with infertility, approximately one-third is related to female causes, one-third related to male causes, and one-third is attributed to both or is unexplained. Trying to figure out what is causing this struggle has been a trying and long journey. Besides my hormone levels and pain, we have very few clues as to what could actually be behind our infertility.  The CDC lists numerous possible causes for infertility in women, including but not limited to Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), improper function of hypothalamus or pituitary glands, obstruction of the fallopian tubes, abnormalities of the uterus, and endometriosis.  Infertility in men can be caused by varicoceles, diabetes, autoimmune disorders, heavy alcohol use, improper function of the pituitary and hypothalamus, and cancer treatments.  However, many of the causes of infertility remain unknown.  It is my hope that our scheduled consultation with a NaPro surgeon might give us some answers.  Sometimes a couple can be perfectly healthy in all respects though, and still struggle with infertility.

Infertility needs to be treated as any disease would be.  I am grateful for the experience I had with Napro-technology as a teenager.  Rather than simply handing me the pill, they showed me how to track my cycles.  I learned more about my body, my cycle, and how I was affected by my cycle.  I learned more about what should happen when my reproductive system is functioning normally. I took bio-identical progesterone timed with my cycle to help adjust my hormone levels. I learned from my experience with Napro-Technology as a teenager that I should expect medical care that respects my dignity and seeks to provide me with a treatment that addresses the underlying cause of my symptoms.

It was natural then, when we decided to seek medical advice for achieving pregnancy, that we turned to Napro-Technology (NaPro) again.  Developed by Dr. Hilgers at Creighton University, it is a system of treating infertility that is rooted in Catholic theology and modern science.  I am immensely grateful for my doctor and the doctors that trained him in this system.  NaPro is an alternative approach to infertility treatment.  Many treatment systems begin with trying to identify physiological causes of infertility, but then move into artificial reproductive technologies such as artificial insemination, IUI, IVF, and others. NaPro sets itself apart from other treatment systems because it uses knowledge about the women’s cycle and hormone levels based upon her fertility charts to treat her.

Unlike common suppressive or destructive approaches, NaProTECHNOLOGY works cooperatively with the procreative and gynecologic systems. When these systems function abnormally, NaProTECHNOLOGY identifies the problems and cooperates with the menstrual and fertility cycles that correct the condition, maintain the human ecology, and sustain the procreative potential. -NaProTechnology site

Since NaPro is rooted in Catholic theology, I know that none of the treatments recommended by my doctor will be contrary to Catholic teaching.  The Church teaches that the procreation of children should remain within the marital act.  Having experienced the heartbreak of infertility, I can understand why couples turn to artificial means for having a child, and they have my deepest sympathies.  We should not treat parents who have turned to artificial means of treatment harshly, nor should their children be treated differently, as their children have equal dignity.  That being said, for my husband and me, we know that these are not an option for us.  I see in treatments like IVF and IUI the same sort of approach that using the pill to treat all cycle issues results in–treating the symptoms and not the disease. This is precisely part of Dr. Hilger’s motivations for creating the system of NaProTechnology, after he observed a paradigm shift in the treatment of infertility.

“Until 1978, most of the effort in medicine in evaluating and treating women with infertility was placed in trying to identify and treat the underlying causes.  In 1978, in vitro fertilization produced a paradigm shift.  It led to a “skipping over” the causes and this continues up to the present time to be the foundational management approach.  In essence, this is a symptomatic or Band-Aid approach to treatment, not one that gets to the root causes.” -NaProTechnology site

Fortunately, NaPro is just as effective (and in some cases more effective) as IVF and it is less expensive.  Treatments used by NaPro involve hormone correction, fertility-focused intercourse, use of modern fertility medications such as Clomid or Metformin, and surgery to correct possible endometriosis, tubal occlusions, and other physiological issues. NaPro results in pregnancy in 38.4-81.8% of cases, depending on underlying causes (NaPro textbook, pg 691).  IVF, however has between a 20-40% success rate.

If you are struggling with infertility, there are options for you.  You don’t have to spend $10,000-$12,000 on fertility treatments.  You can seek treatment that helps you understand the underlying cause of your fertility issues. There is hope, and there are doctors that don’t use NaPro that take a similar approach.  I do know that NaPro isn’t for everyone, and that many Catholics approach NaPro as a miracle fix for infertility.  It can actually be hurtful to couples with this struggle when NaPro is approached as the “end all be all” infertility treatment.  The reality is that 20-60% of NaPro patients don’t get pregnant, depending on the underlying cause.  There is nothing that any person can do to guarantee a pregnancy. Sometimes that is hard to accept. The greatest blessing of using NaPro is remembering that children will happen in God’s time.  We cooperate with Him by seeking medical help and better understanding my fertility, but in the end, the Lord is in control.  It is God who creates and gives life.  And while I sometimes want to shout at the Lord, “Why not now, God?” I know that this suffering is not without purpose.  I know that His timing is perfect, though His timing doesn’t seem to match my plans.

Through it all, I learn to let go.

I let go of control, I let go of my pride.  I let go of my desire for having a child to be easy.  I am humbled each time I have to take medicine so that my body can do what it already should. For a time I would spend the evening crying after every blood draw, as they were a reminder to me that my body was broken. I now begin to look at every pill, every medication, every procedure as part of my labor. For after the fall of man, God said to Eve, “I will intensify your toil in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children” (Genesis 3:16).  I have come to understand that toil in childbearing is not limited merely to the actual birth of the child.  For those with infertility, it is all that they undergo in order that their bodies may function as they should.  It is all that they do to try to cooperate with God in procreation.  I still struggle with accepting the medicalization of this process.  It feels like medicine is invading something that should be very private and deeply personal.  I still struggle with the stress that comes with trying and hoping again each month.  But I have learned that when I hand these things over to Christ and say “Not my will, but thine” that I feel a sense of peace.

My husband and I are helpless in a sense–there is nothing in our power that we could do to guarantee that this month will be “the month.” But what we can know is that Christ holds us close to His Heart.  He walks with us as we try to walk with Him on the path to Calvary.  And when we reach Calvary, we cling to hope.

For we know that on the third day, there will be the resurrection.

 

This is the third post in a series for National Infertility Awareness Week. You can read the first two here: Gratitude: The Gift Amidst the Cross and here: Put Out Into the Deep