Why We Halted Our Adoption: The Conflict – Part 11

“Is it over yet?”
You aren’t the only one thinking this story is almost unbelievable. This God-ordained story, though, is far from over. God had more to reveal to us, and now for me to continue to reveal to you. There is a method behind my madness, one I will reveal in time. No part of me has meant to deceive you along the way; please know that. I am simply sharing the story, in its absolute entirety in chronological order, as I lived it and felt it in real time. The decision to do so is sincerely based upon a strong conviction that this is to what I’m called for the Kingdom’s sake for such a time as this. 

Let us review: Why did we halt our adoption?

The simplest answer is because we cannot afford to pursue adoption and surrogacy at once.
*For more on why we before 3 weeks ago we never dreamed surrogacy would be an option,  and how we were both finally at peace with moving forward with our adoption plans, please see Part 1.
*For more on the Facebook message I received 3 weeks ago from practically a perfect stranger that would rock anyone’s world, please see Part 2.
*For more on our surprisingly spirited 1st reaction to that message, please see Part 3.
*For more on the questions we both had, and the emotional struggle I went through, once the surrogacy option was presented to us, please see Part 4.
*For more on the initial, God-filled meeting I had with the woman who strongly felt God may very well be calling her to be our surrogate, please see Part 5.
*For more on the extremely disheartening news we received the day after I met with the woman who appeared to be an angel sent by God to carry our biological child, please see Part 6.
*For more on the strange, but strong, intuition I was feeling just a little over a week after our dream of surrogacy seemed to be slipping from our hands, please see Part 7.
*For more on all the signs that just weren’t going away and ultimately pointing to my intuition being most likely true, please see Part 8.
*For more on the dramatic turn of events that took place one early morning, please see Part 9.
**For more on the painful drive, and then wait at the hospital, I endured while waiting to hear if my intuition was true, please see Part 10.
That’s what I was almost convinced I was when I woke up on Tuesday, April 2nd.

After all the stress of the previous weeks, then being startled awake the day before in a fashion I never had before, then having to drive myself almost 2 hours away to endure the long wait to hear if I was indeed pregnant, miscarrying or just plain insane, and then having to come home (still in pain) to the news I wasn’t one of the first two, I was emotionally spent. No, I wasn’t just spent. I was done.  So done.

I woke up to the sight of more blood and a feeling I couldn’t shake. Once again the questions that start with “why” filled my mind.

“Why do I still feel somewhat pregnant, if I never was?”
“Why do I have this sinking feeling that I’m miscarrying?”
“Why am I losing my mind?”

“Why can’t You just leave me alone, Lord?!”

I had to be at work at 1:00pm, so thankfully I had the morning to try to pull myself together – physically and emotionally. As I sat on the couch with my computer on my lap, like I do every morning, once again I turned to a familiar friend the past several days…


It had started unbeknownst to anyone (including John) days prior to our trip over Easter. Every little new symptom that popped up caused me to race to my phone and type in the Google search bar, “_____ early pregnancy symptom” or ” _____ + implantation” or “____ + first trimester.” Over and over again. I had no shame. I was curious and knew the World Wide Web would provide me concrete answers a wide variety of speculations. While we were gone on our trip, John asked me to have my phone on just when we needed directions. He, and rightfully so, didn’t want to compete with texts/Google chat messages/Facebook for my attention on a trip that was supposed to be all about us. For the most part, I upheld his request. I tried really, really hard to honor it, anyway. My unknown Google obsession had been fed so much leading up to the trip, though, that it was hard to tame my hunger for more data on why I was not insane but instead with child.

In a span of a week to a week-and-a-half, I’d probably made no less than 25 searches…a day. 😉
I clearly needed Googleholics Annonymous.
And I was just getting started.

The night before, like I had so many other nights, I once again had turned to my “all-knowing” friend, the Google search bar. Unlike the supposed “all-knowing” pregnancy test I had taken on Easter morning, I knew Google wouldn’t let me down. I knew my emotional “salvation” was out there amongst its trillions and trillions of pages. I just had to find it by honing in my searches, by helping my friend help me. I couldn’t expect Google to do all the work. I needed to get savvy with my searches – and fast. My phone was inundated with search after search for hours on end before I went to bed that night, and now that I was awake, the search for my answers was on again.

“___  + HCG levels + miscarriage”
“____ + signs of early miscarriage”
“___+ early miscarriage”
“____ + 4 weeks pregnant  + miscarrying”
“____ + 5 weeks pregnant + miscarrying”
“____ + non-detectible miscarriage”
“____ + false HCG blood test”

You name it, I Googled it.

Now obviously I’m not saying that one should turn to Google before the Lord for their answers. I’m just being real about what went on in my mind and my heart during that very confusing, painful (emotionally and physically) time.  Of course I turned to the Lord first when I wasn’t sure what “up” was from “down.” I knew, even if I found the answers I was looking for on the Internet (which most likely I wouldn’t), Google would never provide an adequate answer which could take away the ache in my heart that begged the answer to the question, “Why?”

“Why couldn’t I just accept what medical professionals told me?”
“Why was my sanity unraveling and I, if I wasn’t already there, on the brink of an emotional breakdown?”

I spent much of that morning in prayer, begging the Father to allow me to accept the news I was given the day before. I begged Him to show me His will. I begged Him to let life return to the way it was a month ago. I begged him to let us go back to when we were going to adopt, when our quest to parenthood had only one logical answer. Most of all, I begged Him to give me the peace that passes all understanding –  no matter our circumstances – that He promises His children in His Word (Phil 4.7).

Sitting on the couch that morning, I got, at least for a few moments, the peace for which my soul was longing. I didn’t, though, like with what it came – a strange prompting.“They’re wrong. Call Dr. Sharp. Go see her.”

The idea of seeing Dr. Sharp (our PCP) had already been brought up earlier that morning by the same friend who had known since the week before I thought there was a good chance I could be pregnant. In her mind, getting a 2nd opinion by Dr. Sharp, a doctor who has OB experience, would help me better accept the news I was given yesterday, since I obviously wasn’t at peace with what I was told.  I understood her point but wasn’t planning on acting on it, to be honest. I didn’t want to sit in front of another doctor,  bear my soul and be kindly told, “No, you actually aren’t – and never have been – pregnant. You’ve just been through a lot, and your body is naturally reacting to the stress. Go home and rest. You’ll feel better soon.”

No, thank you. I was good. I’d felt dumb enough the day before. I had no desire to repeat history. No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn’t shake the way I felt in that moment, for the past 24 hours. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was having a miscarriage, specifically a “chemical” miscarriage. I couldn’t shake the feeling we not only had conceived life, but that the baby was no longer with me. I couldn’t shake the conviction I was feeling to dig deeper into things.

So, I called up her office and made an appointment.
I told myself that no matter what she said, I had to walk out of the office believing it. If she said I was never pregnant, as the rational part of me suspected she would, I had to move on. I had to move on for my good, the good of our marriage, and the good of our future children, however they were going to come into the world. I had to let it go. After all the stress of the past month, I desperately needed – and wanted – to get emotionally healthy again.

I let work know that I was going to be a little late, got ready and once again headed off to hear the truth, probably again.

Though I was hoping it would, life wasn’t about to get any easier.

Part 12 – and a definite answer – to come.


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Filed under Adoption, Baby, cystic fibrosis, Life, Marriage, Purpose, Sanctification, Surrogacy

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