Beginning is the hardest part. Beginning this post, which is the beginning of this blog, and that, in turn, is the beginning of this journey. Taking that first step down a path with an uncertain destination, but knowing if you never begin the certainties that await you are undesirable at best. In this case, the beginning is admitting to myself that I need help as far as my reproductive system goes. Admitting that all the self-research and self-medicating is not moving me forward. Admitting that all I've done so far is obsess over what I feel I should able to accomplish alone.
My walk as a Christian is shaky and inconsistent, but I am trying to change my habits to reflect a Godly relationship with my Saviour. In that, I'm having to take that first step, that leap of faith and stop relying on what I can do for myself as far as my fertility goes. It's not in my hands. Does that mean I won't go to a doctor and try to get medical help? No. I truly believe that God gave humans the intelligence to discover how His creation functions. But even going to a doctor is a leap of faith for me. Starting this journal is another. Both are part of a greater acknowledgement of my own imperfections, and discovering how to be content in all things.
I think I have always know that I would struggle with having children. I always wanted to adopt, and even before my body physically matured, I asked my mom if she would surrogate for me if I was never able to have my own kids. Maybe that is a normal question for a little girl, but now it only strikes me as odd.
Once I hit puberty, my fears heightened. You see, there's a cycle that a woman's body has to go through in order to be able to reproduce. Mine doesn't really do it. Sure, every once in a while, when it feels like it, usually at the most inconvenient times for me (first day at a new job anyone?). But for the most part, my body has never worked the way most people's does. I don't even get sick the same way most people to. I feel like I'm always part of the 0.00001% of the population that will get the same virus as everyone else but it manifests in the most obscure ways. Anyway, I'm headed to a new doctor on Friday to get all checked out. Again. I'm hoping that she will take me seriously. The last doctor I had been going to (over a year ago) was pretty awful. For example: they recorded my blood pressure when they didn't even take it. So why should I trust them with my uterus???
All that being said, I am holding onto the promise of Psalm 113:9. I believe that I will one day be the joyful mother of children. And it may be through adoption instead of through more natural means. I'm perfectly fine with that. If my husband and I were a little older (most countries have age requirements) I would possibly pursue that and forget all this medical junk. I think one day my husband and I will pursue adoption regardless of whether we have biological children or not. While this journey has an uncertain destination, I highly prefer it to the certainty of relying solely on myself.
But, until then, I'm just the barren woman.