Trying to Trust God While Trying to Conceive

Jen Ferguson connected online and then met in real life. I'm looking forward to the day we get to hang out in person again. For now, I'm grateful for what she's doing over at Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood, where she's fostering a real life community. Part of its accessibility is resources like guest blog posts that encourage women walking through all sorts of difficult seasons. It's important to know none of us are alone. 

I knew when she was asking for people to consider sharing their stories I wanted to write about our infertility journey that led us to adopt our two children. Today is the first installment on the hard years of infertility. The second part about adoption will publish on July 2.
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I learned the hard way deciding I was “ready” to have a baby wasn’t enough to get pregnant.

In December 2004, I stopped taking birth control pills, thinking that giving those up was submitting myself to God’s will. My husband was already ready and was just waiting – quite patiently, I might add – for me to have a family.

I’ve never been much of a science-minded person. But I knew enough to know when I didn’t have a menstrual cycle for the six months after trashing my birth control pills, I wasn’t going to get pregnant. I called the doctor, who at the end of the appointment prescribed Clomid to help me ovulate.

I walked out of the doctor’s office with what seemed to be the tool I needed to get my way. I probably should have been more nervous about taking a fertility drug, but I was already desperate to fix this.

Somehow I was still shocked that this next step in life wasn’t that easy. For five months, Clomid helped me ovulate, according to many vials of blood work, but it also made me emotional – perhaps “crazy” is a better description – and strained my marriage. Even through the emotions, I was convinced this was all just part of trying to become a mom.

Between the doctor’s appointments and blood draws, I prayed, “God, please help us become pregnant.” I uttered those words six words over and over again – as friends were announcing their pregnancies, on the good days when I had hope, and on the hard days where I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t getting my way.


{Read the rest over at Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood, where real connections matter.}
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