Driving home from work the other day, my mind drifted, much like it always does, to Ian and Madison. I was brought back to three years ago when I couldn't find Ian's heartbeat on our doppler. On Saturday, it will have been three years since we said hello and goodbye to our first child.
Like a big old slap in the face, the radio began to play that song. You know, the one that proclaims "it's the most wonderful time of year". Except for me. There's not too much that's wonderful about being reminded that your child is no longer here.
Because the holidays, especially Christmas, are filled with picture perfect Christmas cards, Instagram photos of children opening their presents or leaving cookies for Santa, and all around joy and cheer. But when you've lost a child, this time of the year can be down right impossible. There's the constant reminder that your child is no longer here. You don't have to look far to see the empty stockings or a few less presents under the tree. And all that joy and cheer that everyone else seems to be beaming with is the last thing on your mind.
It's no secret that Eric and I desperately want to be parents to a child (many, many children) here on Earth. In September, I was able to switch insurances to get my infertility treatments covered, and since then we've been having more monitoring of my cycles done. I started very optimistic that we would quickly be able to get pregnant again now that Dr. Haller could better see what was going on. But that optimism soon turned to despair as the trigger shot only made me ovulate one time, and the last two cycles I haven't had any mature follicles to release by day 14, so I haven't even been able to receive the trigger shot. [If all this sounds confusing, it's because it is ha! I hope you never have to know what all these things mean. But if you're curious, just ask and I'll fill you in.]
Yesterday, I had my last ultrasound and meeting with Dr. Haller. After telling me that the one follicle I had wasn't big enough to trigger, I just broke down. I wanted so badly to be pregnant already, and I was so hopeful that I would be able to achieve this feat with Dr. Haller. Lo and behold, God had other plans.
On my drive home, Psalm 46:10 drifted into my mind. "Be still, and know that I am God." How powerful are those words! It is so hard to be patient and trusting when what you want right this second isn't what God has in store for you. And I've fallen victim to this more times than I want to admit.
As I was leaving, Dr. Haller assured me that next Christmas would look a lot different from this one. January 5th, Eric and I go to St. Louis to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist (Dr. Dayal-the same one who is giving the Finley's their rainbow baby!) to figure out the next steps in our journey to grow our family. This isn't the plan I had in mind for us, but I can only hope and pray that what God has in store is better than we could have ever imagined. And that next Christmas truly will look a lot different for our Schackmann family.
