About this time last year, my husband and I started talking seriously about having a third child. Not that we were ever closed to the idea, but I’d had some struggles with getting my health back in shape after James’ birth, so we’d been effectively using NFP to space pregnancies a bit in order to give my body a chance to heal. But, after a year, things were back in order, and I was ready to try again.
God and my body, it seems, had other plans.
There are months when I know for certain I’m not going to be pregnant, but some months, I find myself wondering. And then there are the bittersweet months when I really think I might be…only to find that single pink line on the pregnancy test. I am put in mind of Anne Shirley who loved to “soar on the wings of anticipation.” She thought, and I tend to agree, that it “almost pays for the thud” that often follows.
Hope is like that. We soar. We thud. But, if we are Christian—and I think Anne would agree here—we also trust.
Can I trust God as much with my infertility as I did with my fertility?
I am walking a fine line between keeping an eye on my health (most 27-year-old women who have had two children in close succession do not find themselves suddenly irrevocably infertile) and keeping faith. There is blood work to be run, and there are vitamins I may take, but there is also a bevy of options that I must sadly turn aside from. Could I take matters into my own hands and virtually guarantee myself a third baby? With today’s technology, it’s likely. But, it’s a line I’m not willing to cross.
And so I wait and soar on wings of hope.
For two pink lines.