(As posted originally by me at The Summit Church blog.)
“You have turned my mourning into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.”
In April 2009 I had a total hysterectomy. I didn’t want to have a hysterectomy, but because I had been diagnosed with hormone positive breast cancer the year before, my oncologist insisted that removing my ovaries was important in decreasing the odds of a cancer recurrance. I knew that I was making the right decision for my body, but losing my fertility was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It left deeper scars than losing my breasts.
I remember waking up from surgery and feeling…empty. I had less pain with that surgery than I did with the others but I was pushing down so many emotions: loss, death, hope, finality. I didn’t want to not ever be pregnant again. I strained to remember what it felt like having a growing human inside me. I still strain to remember what it was like to look down at my growing bump and seeing those flips and kicks and squirms.
But there was a promise for me in the middle of losing my fertility. The promise wasn’t just for me but for a child yet born. A promise of hope and a future. A promise from a Daddy who desires to be a Father to the fatherless and wants His creation to express that part of Him to the world.
When Dwayne and I got married eight years ago, adoption was part of the plan because we didn’t know if I could have children. I had an extensive endometriosis history. We both agreed that this was part of God’s heart for us. God led us early on to fully submit our “family planning” to Him and we became pregnant with our son Cayle (now 6 years old) our first year of marriage. With great joy we realized we could have our own biological children. We found out we were pregnant with our daughter Alaya (now 5) one week after Cayle’s first birthday. Then, when Alaya was 9 months old, I found a lump in my breast. This became the end of childbearing for me.
I know in my heart that if we had kept having our own children, our desire to adopt might have decreased. I know God did not bring the calamity of cancer upon me. Cancer (and hysterectomy for that matter) is just part of the fallen, sinful world we live in. But God is redeeming the death to my womb. What Satan meant for harm, God intends for good.
I have been praying since 2009 that God would lead us in His perfect timing to adopt the child He has for us. I have prayed that He would make Dwayne and I one in every way in the decision and the timing of the matter. In the last few months, God has really began to prompt Dwayne that the timing was near. Then, this week, Dwayne came home and sat down with me and told me, “I think it’s time we start the adoption process. God won’t leave me alone about it.”
Don’t you love that?! It isn’t about me forcing the issue (with either God or Dwayne!), but prayerfully releasing it into His hands and trusting His plan.
So we begin a new journey. God is making beauty from the ashes of my womb. I wish I could describe the intensity of emotion that fills my heart when I think about holding a baby He has provided from His own hand with no help from me whatsoever. A different kind of miracle. I find myself praying for this child that may not have been conceived yet, just as I pray for Cayle and Alaya. I find myself pining for the day we will meet. I wonder what this child will look like? Will it be a boy or a girl? I’m pregnant with the emotion and wonderment of it all.
God loves to burn away the weeds of the things we think we want and need and replace them with a fertile, green garden of His love and perfection.
Pray, if you will, for this child that God has for us. Pray that the path to him/her would be straight and full of peace and joy.
“…weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”