Today I fessed up to my dad that we’re struggling with infertility. I still haven’t quite made sense of the feelings around this or even why, to begin with, it felt so important to keep it to myself. We’ve told several friends of varying closeness but for some reason it has felt more private with family. Maybe in part because for a long time I’d hoped we’d have some big special, shocking moment when we could say we were pregnant and, honestly, when you’re (in)fertile that possibility begins to slip out of your hands. There’s also the bit of not wanting the added pressure and, of course, not wanting to feel weak or like a failure. Hmm, I think that may be it. It’s been coming at me from all sides lately that I really like to think that and appear like I have it all together. Think these things just might be related?
My dad’s response was sweet. It also was not at all what I expected. I told him in this choppy monologue with awkward silences where I kept expecting him to interject at least with an “awww” and where I began to wonder if we’d had an untimely dropped call. Or an “untimely dropped call” along the lines of a fake crackle through the phone indicating I’d just shared way too much. But once I spit it all out and gave him a second to catch up with me, he said, “Well I am so excited to hear this. Not that you’re having trouble, sweety, but I’m so happy to hear you’re trying.” In my quivery voice I gave him an “awww” back (it was all I could get out). I could just hear it in his voice that he would love to know this set of grandchildren. He told me he’s already started his 50 states quarter collection for my kids (awww again), that he wants twin girls to which I confessed I’ve been fearing triplets lately, and that he’d love to see little me’s running around. The quiver became tears, but of course I didn’t show it to my dad, who I for some reason still want to think I’m not weak.
Sometimes the “It will happen for you!” response drives me nuts or at the very least causes me to want to explain that there’s a 2% chance we’ll become spontaneously pregnant any given month and still only 10% with medication and IUI (and IUI only works for 30% of couples. boo.). But this time, I could just hear his desire for me — and for himself — in his voice. And honestly, it comforted me. It felt like my dad actually knew more than me and knew this to be true. I made sure to let him know it had been 21 months and not to get his hopes up, but then I also just let myself rest, even if just for a moment, in the possibility that his assuredness about this could be right.
It felt kind of good to let my weakness show (pssst, excuse me m’am! Your weakness is showing!). I’m reminded right now of 2 Corinthians 12:9 where Paul is writing about the Lord saying to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” My goodness. That is such a big deal. I feel so desperate right now and so drained and have so very little to give or to live off of, those are such sweet words to hear. He is what is keeping me going. He is what makes me enough. I guess it’s not me feeling competent in my work or being on time or having an empty inbox. I really stink at all of those things, so this is a lot to be given. And He seems to even be saying here that it actually is best when I’m weak. I’m definitely aware of him having a ton of space to take up in my life because I’m not so much in the way, and that really is a good thing. It would be so great if His power could be displayed right now. It doesn’t all make sense to me, this sovereign God yet allowing suffering thing, but for now I’ll also rest in this promise to me and not having it all figured out.
A good word today from two dads.