Refiner's Fire

I went into our marriage with unrealistic expectations. I remember hearing, often that the first two years are the hardest. "Not for us" I thought, "we're solid." What I didn't count on was all the "stuff" that was completely out of my control. We faced hurricane force winds in the beginning. At one point, we had to decide if we were going to stay married and work things out or walk away. We chose to stay and work. Because we worked at it, we built a strong foundation that kept us grounded through the coming years and all of the heartbreak and trials we would face. Many of sources of stress and heartache have been overcome, and some we still carry on our shoulders each day.

When I was a teenager, I had horrible, horrible cramps. I would miss days of school and just lay in the fetal position sobbing all day. Our first Thanksgiving together before we were married, I spent in the bathtub soaking to try to relieve the pain. Daniel sat outside the door talking to me, trying in vain to alleviate my suffering. I was worried after seeing that reality that he would run. He didn't. My sister had worked for an OB/GYN and told me she was sure that I had endometriosis. One of my doctors laughed at me and said that I couldn't possibly have it if I was still having a period. So, I did what every doctor from the time I was 15 told me to do, I tried birth control. We were married just a few months when I threw the pills out and assumed that a pregnancy would quickly follow. That assumption cost me months of tears and worry and stress. Lots of "just relax" comments came our way. FYI-don't ever say that to anyone trying to conceive.) My mom suggested a new doctor. The first visit, he did an exam and told me that I was completely full of endometriosis. He suggested surgery and said that my chances of conception in the first 6 months afterwards were high.

6 months later I went back to him with a broken heart. I was in a waiting room full of pregnant women and their small children and felt no hope for the future. As I sat in an exam room and listened to him tell me that I would probably never have children without serious interevention (he couldn't possibly have known that that term would mean the divine kind), I noticed a machine that aids in abortions and was struck again by the cruelty of our situation. I walked to the elevators and fell apart in Daniel's arms. I think I've blocked a lot of that time out. It was dark and lonely. I felt betrayed by my body. I felt like I had failed my husband. I felt my empty arms literally ache.

Yet something held us back from pursuing fertility doctors and treatment.