Struggling to Conceive, Part Two: Conceiving of Faith

When I think about the word faith, nothing that specific comes to mind. I think this might be a function of the fact that I grew up in the Church, and that talking about faith has, literally, always been a part of my life.

Think about it.

As believers, we throw around faith a lot. We say “my faith sustains me” or “have faith and be patient” or “I have faith in the Lord.”

These are all great phrases, and true at some point in our lives. But Faith can be a tough thing to have, particularly in times of struggle.

Despite the fact that my faith does in fact sustain me, and it has for the majority of my life, I have struggled mightily with faith the past year and a half. When Hubster and I decided to begin trying to have a baby, I didn’t think that much about it. All my girlfriends had gotten married and had babies, so why wouldn’t I do the same? At the same time, I will admit that I harbored a deep and unspoken fear of not being able to have a baby. But if I kept my face forward and didn’t think about it, surely it would all work out.

            

As we geared up to try, I felt sure that I would be pregnant in time. After all, unprotected sex leads to pregnancy, right? That’s what had been drilled into my head for YEARS, so I supposed in a way, I had faith in that reality.

          

Faith: Hebrews says “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (11:1, NIV).  

            

I had faith in what I couldn’t see: I would get pregnant.

            

Then two months went by. Three. Four. Doctor’s appointments. Hormones. Roller coaster emotions. Weight I couldn’t lose. Period after period.

            

My faith in becoming pregnant waned a little more each time I road the uphill climb of post-ovulation, plummeting at breakneck speed each time my period showed up.

            

While I am not some paragon of virtue and wisdom, I have gained a little perspective in the past two months, and I realized that my faith was in the wrong place.

            

Hubster and I were married for just over a year when we started trying to get married. In that time, I had been told every story by every girl I knew about how they got pregnant—and none of them had confessed to having trouble.

            

Nope, it was all “omg, he looks at me and I get pregnant!” or “I stopped taking the pill and got pregnant a few days later” or “we weren’t even planning to get pregnant—I was still on birth control.”

           

Hearing these stories had created a confidence in me, a faith, that nature would take its course and we would have a baby.

            

But God never intended my faith to be in “nature” or in the security of hearing about some else’s experiences.

           

He has always intended for my faith to be right where He so craves it to be—in Him.

           

Jeremiah writes “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.’” (29:11-13, NIV). No wonder my faith should always rest securely in the Creator of the Universe.

            

I forgot that truth in the midst of struggling to conceive. I still forget it on a pretty regular basis. It’s easy to lose sight of in the midst of rolling emotions, devastation and disappointment, discontentment and anger.

            

Yet it’s a truth that I have absolutely rediscovered in the midst of this struggle. God brings things into our lives at the exact moment we need them.

Yes, rediscovered. 

            

I learned it when God brought Hubster and I together. We met at the exact moment we were ready to meet one another, and not a moment before. I mean that literally too, because 10 days before Hubster and I were introduced by mutual friends, I was still dating someone else.

            

Talk about timing. God’s got it down.

            

That didn’t mean that I hadn’t railed and growled and told God so many times how much I wanted to have the man He intended for me right now. I thought I was ready so many times, and it turns out, I really wasn’t. But when the Lord gave me Hubster, I was ready. Really and truly ready.

            

That’s so awesome!

            

Struggling to conceive has forced me to rediscover this on a daily basis.

            

I want to have a baby.

            

I really do.

            

Not because all my friends have one (which, btw, is true), not because my biological clock is ticking (I don’t feel like I am getting too old), but because I feel ready to have a baby. I want to be a mother, I want to make Hubster a father, and I want to raise kiddos up to love and serve the Lord.

            

So far though, that desire hasn’t become a reality.

            

What has become reality is this: each day, I must put my faith where it belongs. I don’t always feel like it, it’s not always easy, but it’s still something I must do. I must because He is my song and shield, my confidence and strength.

            

Through my life and the lives of many more great people before me, He has remained faithful and true, and so my confidence is in Him.

            

I still grieve the lack of children in our life. I still long to be pregnant and experience the joy of new life. I still feel overcome by sadness on a regular basis.

            

But I have hope, because my confidence is in Him, despite the fact that I cannot see all the good He has for me.