Cedar N' Steel

The hardest physical test I’ve ever endured was climbing Pacaya, a constantly erupting volcano in Antigua, Guatemala. During the final semester of my graduate studies in physical therapy at Emory University, myself and a group of fellow students and faculty members traveled to Guatemala to create exercise programs and upper extremity orthotics for children and adults with physical deformities and other handicaps. We found some time to sight see and spent a day climbing to the top of Pacaya (on the opposite side of the lava flow obviously). Hours upon hours of uphill climbing, first on well-worn roads, then uneven narrow paths with switchbacks, followed by sinking black sand, and finally dried crust speckled with obsidian and steaming from the hot lava flow mere meters below.

It seemed like an endless climb with no peak in sight.  I’ve never breathed or sweated so hard in my life. At times I wanted to give up and just turn around and go back, maybe hop on one of the donkeys taking people down. Every once in a while a plateau emerged for us to sit and rest, taking in the breathtaking view of the verdant valley below, catching our breath and mentally and physically gearing up for the next part of the climb. The higher we climbed the harder and more draining the path seemed. We could see our destination, but it never seemed to get any closer.

That’s what I feel like now. I am exhausted. I’m tired of all the tests and the hormones and the emotional roller coaster. This path to build our family feels like an uphill climb with no end in sight. Each test result and treatment brings new hope, a restful plateau to take in the scenery, and renewed vigor to climb the path. Each transfer, the excited anticipation of finally reaching the summit. And each miscarriage reveals a new grueling section to the climb, the peak still hidden in the clouds. I know there is a summit, just like Pacaya, but I have no idea how treacherous the journey or how long it will take to reach it.

The hardest part is not knowing what God wants from me. Is He telling me that biological children aren’t in our future and He’s calling us to adoption? Is He asking us to just keep going forward no matter how difficult? Does He have some other plan in store we can’t even see right now? At times I feel like we’re ascending this mountain in a blizzard, frozen in time while our friends and family move forward, numbing the pain with distractions, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. I just want to let it go…

My response to this miscarriage has been completely different from the previous two. After the first one, I closed in on myself, avoiding contact with anyone, staying home all day. After the second one, I started working out immediately to numb the pain and Michael and I left Birmingham to spend the winter in Saint Simons, hoping a change in scenery would help us forget. This time, the minute I started cramping and bleeding, I just broke down in tears. Poor Michael just held me and kept silent as I bawled into his chest. With my first two miscarriages it took months for me to cry out to God.  This time it took minutes. I cried to Him how sad and angry and alone I felt. My exact (silent) words to Him were “Take this from me. I can’t handle it on my own!” I’m not exaggerating or making up what happened next. Immediately a sense of peace washed over me and I stopped crying. I even smiled because the next thing that went through my head was “What am I worried about, God? You got this.” I fell asleep moments later.

For the first time in this long journey, I heard God. Really for the first time in my entire life. He cut through the storm in my mind, met me exactly where I was, and told me not to worry. In Matthew 8:23-26, the following scene occurs: “Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” He replied “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” The he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.”

God should be the first one we run to in times of trouble, not the last. It’s taken me three miscarriages to learn this. When storms come up, when the climb seems impossible, when we feel we just can’t handle it anymore, our first response should be to ask for God’s help. He brings us to things we can’t handle so we recognize our need for Him. 2 Corinthians 12:9 says “But he said to me “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

I realize it’s only with God’s help that we can continue to climb this mountain. I can’t do it without Him. In my head I knew this, but now my heart feels it as well. I am physically and mentally exhausted, weakened by the ascent, but He has infinite strength and power that never fails and can carry any load we give Him. All I can do is focus on the few feet I can see in front of me, leave the future up to God, and press on. We still have four embryos frozen, more tests to undergo, and more decisions to make before we reach the summit.  He won’t let me give up right now because we have a duty to the four children we have left. He still has more planned for us through IVF and I know I must lean on Him to see this through.

I have no idea what the future holds. Be it children through IVF, children through adoption, children through surrogacy, honorary children through other family and friends, or no children at all, I know God carries us the entire way. He’s told me “Don’t worry Rachel; I got this.” The fact that I’ve finally heard Him and experienced Him calming my storm makes me realize I’m on the right path. He’s meant for all of this to happen in order to bring me closer to Him, the ultimate purpose for my life, and it has. It makes me realize that the accomplishment of the climb is not the summit, it’s the journey it took to get there.

Isaiah 40: 28-31, 2 Timothy 2:1, Revelation 2:3, Matthew 11:28, Galatians 6:9