Long before I knew my vocation as wife, I knew my vocation as mother. Throughout my college years, the sacrifice and joy of motherhood tugged at my heartstrings and I challenged myself to uncover where I was called to serve out this calling. I spent time praying for direction- was I being led to the religious life to serve as a spiritual mother, or was I bound to be a wife and have my own physical children? For the longest time I was terrified of either prospect. My heart ached to experience the thrill of life within me, and I knew that a call to religious life meant that I would never encounter such a thing. However, when I thought of marriage, I could never see the face of a soul whom I could trust or love enough to bind my heart to for the remainder of my time here on earth. When I closed my eyes and dreamt of the future, I saw babies. But I never saw a father. Until Ben.
Ben came into my life like a summer rainstorm-- he used his life as a vessel for Christ's love and faithfulness, and he quenched a thirst inside me that I didn't know I had. Because of him, because of God's love shining through him, I grew strong and took deeper root in my own faith. Faith in God. Faith in myself. Faith in mankind. Faith in him. He was the face that I could never picture in my vision of motherhood. He was the father. More importantly, however, I finally felt peace knowing that I was called to be his wife. He would be my partner, my husband, my equal and my leader at the same time. I took on this childish wonderment at everything around me. The day we were married, nothing could have shaken my joy. Not a single thing. Because, finally, I was living out my vocation as wife and well on my way to motherhood.
We settled into married life easily and developed a routine of daily sacrifices that we were both honored to do for one another. We knew that our next step was starting a family... something we were both longing for and couldn't wait to experience. However, we were hit with the harsh reality of infertility right off the bat. As months passed with negative pregnancy tests, a PCOS diagnosis, pokes and prods and labs and tears, there was only a small fraction of hope still in my heart. Ben, the perpetual optimist, would pray me through each tearful doctor's visit and ensure me that we were always taking steps forward. That someday, he just knew, God would bless us with a baby of our own. As we approached a full year of infertility, the talk of adoption began to fill our home. We began to pray about next steps. Where do you want us, Lord? What should we do with this pain? Is it time to place our hope in another path?
And then one morning I woke up at 6:30 feeling called to take the last pregnancy test we had in our home. I laid and prayed for a while, wanting to be SURE that God was asking me to do this. Go on, a voice whispered. Go ahead and take it. Three long minutes later, I saw the faintest plus sign imaginable show up on the screen. I snuck into the bedroom to wake Ben up to have him take a look. A few hours later I called our doctor's office to let them know what I saw. They had done blood work on me two days before and already had an idea that they would be getting a call from me. I spent the day crying tears of joy, relief, gratitude. Tears for the tough year we had been through, tears for the beautiful journey ahead.
Our year of infertility felt like a lifetime, and these last 33 weeks of pregnancy have passed in the blink of an eye. I have been through weekly tests getting my blood drawn, nausea, back pain, weight gain (duh), sleep loss, and so many hormonal, teary outbursts. And all of it is worth it.
You know, they tell you when you are pregnant that everything is going to swell up. Your ankles, your feet, your face, your hands. But what they don't tell you is how much your heart also follows suit. My heart's capacity for love has reached a bound that I never dreamed possible. It feels similar to reliving my wedding vows over and over again each time she kicks, rolls, hiccups, or sticks her little feet into my side. My heart explodes through my eyes as tears on a daily basis because I simply cannot contain the joy and fear and hope that this child has brought into my life by her simple existence. She is the promise God made to me when I first dreamed of my vocation. The promise that I had lost hope in, and He chose to restore my faith in Him first through the storm of infertility and now through her tiny life. No one ever tells you about how your heart shatters in the best way possible when you are carrying another human inside you. They tell you about the sacrifices you will make, but they never tell you how those sacrifices will mold you into a better person. How they will shift your entire view of the world and give you a sense of purpose that you never knew you had.
For those friends of mine who are living in the pain of infertility, for those who may never experience physical motherhood, I will never stop praying for you. I hope that you never lose trust in His plan, and I hope you know that I will never forget the heartache you are experiencing. I am here for you. I am with you and for you.
For those friends of mine who are mothers and mommy's-to-be, I also will pray for you. I will pray that God gives you the grace to cherish every moment of this beautiful vocation. Pregnancy is HARD. You sacrifice your entire body and entire self for this little human, and I know how draining that can be. But promise me that you will never forget that we are not entitled to motherhood. This is truly a miracle.
I cannot wait to see Ben become the father to our little girl that I always dreamed of for my children. He already exceeds every expectation that I ever had for a husband, and I know that fatherhood will suit him well. As we approach two years of marriage I cannot believe the amount of hardships he has carried us through, and the amount of joy he has sustained. He has constantly and patiently nudged me back to Christ.
My heart swells with love of you, sweet baby girl. Thank you for transforming my body, my faith, and my life.
