I shook my head and stared at the test. One strong line and one very very faint one.
“There’s no way…”
My heart started racing. Could this be it? Could it really be it?
If there’s anything five years and only one positive pregnancy test has taught me it’s to not get my hopes up.
I tested again, this time unable to clearly make out a second line. Maybe it was there? Maybe it wasn’t? I decided to go out and purchase a more sensitive pregnancy test.
RJ wasn’t home, so my only companion was Daisy. As I’m an external processor, I brought her with me to the drug store so I could have someone to talk to, obviously.
“Daisy, what do you think? I don’t know, do you think this is it? It probably isn’t…but what if it is? Which test should we get? How should we tell Big Pup if it’s real? Daisy, do you think this is it??” And she stared back at me with her big toothless grin, tongue out, excited for an adventure.
We walked up and down the aisles, all the while I’m taking pictures and videos and documenting just in case this really was it. But it probably wasn’t. But…I mean…what if it was?
I came home, took another test and was unable to make out a second line. Later that night, I started to spot. The next morning, I started to bleed.
The ache and pain of this disappointment was so devastating, it felt like it would crush my body and soul. I felt like my heart was really broken.
Like a damn fool, I got my hopes up, let myself get a little excited, brought my dog to the drugstore, documented it all, just to be let down. Again. It feels both stupid and tragic at the same time.
It’s so hard not to wrestle with the goodness of God in infertility, especially unexplained infertility. Like…why, God? Why? If You knew it was going to be negative in the end, why even give me a positive test in the first place? If You know each month that a late period will end up with nothing, why not just put me out of my misery and not drag out the disappointment, or worse, allow me to hope? Don’t You see how hard this is already? Don’t You see how painful it is?
Don’t You care?
Perhaps the cruelest part of unexplained infertility is that it’s unexplained. You don’t know why you’re not getting pregnant. You don’t know if it’ll ever happen. All the tests come back inconclusive. You don’t know if you should keep spending money on treatments. You don’t know if you should keep going or just stop trying. You don’t know whether to move on.
You don’t know.
It sometimes feels that it would be easier to know it would never happen, grieve the loss, and move on than to keep your heart open to hope. Because how can you keep your heart wide open, vulnerable to hope when at the same time you keep your heart wide open and vulnerable to devastating loss and pain and disappointment month after month? How do you keep doing so when you’ve experienced more pain than joy? How can you not numb or harden or protect or guard from disappointment?
When all strength is gone, when our hearts are broken, when the pain threatens to consume us, when we’re in darkness and cannot find our way, this we call to mind, all we are able to muster and choke out through our tears at times, and therefore we have hope:
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness.”
My heart and my flesh may fail, but God is the strength of my heart, my portion forever.
Please be praying with us as we seek God for the next steps in growing our family.