From The Editor: Giving Up

My husband and I tried for years to have a baby. We waited until we both had good jobs and felt like we could responsibly welcome a new member into our family, also waiting to make sure we had enough time as just the two of us before expanding into this new step on our journey together. I was in my later-but-still-mid-twenties when we started trying, so the doctor’s response to my concern was, “You’re still so young. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Two years later, I got a different doctor because we had moved, and her response was, “Just keep trying. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

After another year of disappointment, I felt like a complete failure. I knew something was wrong, but no one would listen or take me seriously, so I quit asking or talking about it. But that just made it hurt worse. I went from feeling helpless to becoming bitter.

It couldn’t be my fault, after all. My mom had her tubes tied after she had my oldest sister. Then she had the reversal surgery which had only a 25 percent chance of success. Then she had four more children. Plus, my husband’s existence is a miracle by all accounts, his parents struggling to conceive, so it couldn’t be my fault.

Instead of subjecting myself to more doctors speaking down to me and telling me everything was just in my head, I needed to try harder, or that I should just wait a while longer, I convinced my husband to go get checked out.

Turns out, that was the move that broke me. He was perfectly fine. Fantastic, even. It really was all my fault. And now that I had been dragging my feet for another two years, the fact that I did not at that moment have a baby in my arms was entirely. my. fault.

I collapsed in on myself. I wept tears of bitterness, despair, pain, grief, shame, and loneliness. Every month that passed was another opportunity for fulfillment that I was now actively working against through my paralyzing inaction, and it was devastating. I desperately pulled all the hurt and pain into myself, holding on for dear life, afraid that if I let go, the brittle remainder of myself would shatter.

Finally, unable to hold onto the fraying edges of everything within me any longer, I surrendered. I gave all the hurt and all my obstinacy to God. And while on my knees, the Holy Spirit whispered into my soul, “You are enough.”

Even if I never had a child growing within me, I was enough. Even if I never held a baby in my arms, I was enough. Even if this deep desire I’d clung to my entire life was never fulfilled, it would be okay. Because I was enough. I didn’t need to become a mom to be everything God created me to be; I just had to be, and just being with my Father was enough.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God tells Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” When I accepted my weakness, my lack of power and control over the situation, God filled me with the power of His peace.

And in His power, I decided to take a step forward. Leaving at the altar my fear of failure and belief that I would never be enough, I went back to my doctor and explained the situation. She sent me directly to an ob-gyn to discuss the matter. He did a quick test, saw that I wasn’t ovulating, put me on a prescription pill, and four weeks later I was pregnant.

All it took was surrender. Sitting immobilized by my feelings was not the solution. Silently waiting and hoping that those around me would solve my problems was not enough. Screaming into the darkness that it wasn’t fair, that I had been wronged, wasn’t the answer. I had to give up and step forward through God’s strength, because I did not have the strength on my own. I only had enough of my own strength to stumble to the altar and admit my powerlessness. And that was all God needed me to know before working His miracle.