Author: debbiewebel

Posted on

To all the Women in the Midst of the Infertility Battle

“We’re pregnant!”

Kel and I looked at each other in amazement. “Were you all trying?”

“Yes, sorta!”

It’s still incredible to us that people can decide to have a child, or another child, and… voilà! This isn’t a luxury that we have. And, in reality, probably no one really has it – it can just seem like it.

We have been so honored and beyond blessed to care for Baby K the last (almost) year, but there’s the constant nagging that reminds me that she is not “ours” – she’s a ward of the state of New Mexico. We are stewards of her little soul. We have no control if she stays or goes. I know that no one really has control of that with their children… we all just like to think (or hope) we do.

When we first got K, lots of people commented that we’d probably get pregnant now that we had a newborn living with us. Because, that’s what always happens. The irony of life – the infertile couple gets a baby placed with them and then, magically, find themselves pregnant. A part of my heart longed for that to be true. Not because K wasn’t enough, but because I loved the idea of her having a little sidekick to grow up with, if we were fortunate enough to keep her.

I haven’t spoken or written much about infertility in a while. Partially because it feels a little cruel to the women who are still dealing with it in very real ways while I bounce a perfect-to-me baby on my lap. I have instantly been ushered into a world of mom-hood – the world where I can easily engage in conversation with the lady holding a baby in line at the DMV because I know we have something in common. I can now relate to the utter exhaustion, day-time nap challenges, and blow-outs.

But every month, I still face the same disappointment that I did before K came along. It doesn’t last as long, and there’s no time for it to be all-consuming, but I’d be lying if I said it had vanished completely. As K approaches her first birthday (in ten days!) and hopes of adoption continue to grow, I can’t help but think a second kid might be nice… I can’t help but want her to have a constant sibling companion during childhood.

Maybe that makes me selfish or ungrateful. Or maybe it just makes me human.

But, for us, a second kid means a bit more than a perfectly-timed sexual encounter. Maybe it means thousands and thousands of dollars. Or the potential heartache and ups and downs of the adoption process. Or the possibility of adoption through foster care – if/when reunification with biological parents doesn’t work out (which is usually the initial goal). Or medications, procedures, and lots and lots and lots of waiting, wondering, and hoping.

I think it’s easy to forget those who struggle with getting pregnant. Easy to think, “Oh- she has a foster baby now, I’m so happy for them – the struggle is finally over!” Or, perhaps, if we stop talking about it, all of that stuff will just go away.

I imagine the pain of infertility might have lifelong affects. A mourning of never carrying a biological child in your own womb. A letting go of something your body was created to do. A relinquishing of expectation and desire.

But, I also believe there can be extraordinary and beautiful experiences along the way. Ones that could have never existed otherwise. Ones that cause me to be grateful for the years of infertility, ones that leave me astonished by God’s sovereign plans – far better than anything I could have dreamed of myself. For us, one of those things has been K – placed in our arms at 6 days old. I would wait for her all over again. Every tear was worth it, for before me each day I have the privilege of watching the most charming of personalities, discovering both the world and herself with awe and wonder. She is strong, smart, and silly.

[K, I have marveled lately about the Lord’s perfect timing of your appearance in our life… if I hadn’t been home from California for a short visit, if my boss hadn’t been moving, if your cousin’s leukemia treatment hadn’t been deescalated, if your dad and I hadn’t been living in New Mexico at that exact moment in time, if we hadn’t somewhat randomly decided to jump into the foster care journey. You have been the most surprising and wonderful gift – more than anything we could have asked for or imagined. You, I am certain, were meant for us and we were meant for you. You are undoubtedly our daughter, whether or not genetics declare it so. We are made better by you in our lives. You were worth the wait. You have been deeply wanted from the moment we knew about you, and fiercely loved from the moment we saw you.]

It’s incredible to me that the Lord can give us a child, or another child… and voilà! God always shows up. He proves Himself faithful in the craziest, most surprising ways. And He will remain faithful, even if Baby K doesn’t get to stay.

To all the women in the midst of the infertility battle – I haven’t forgotten you. The pain is real. Don’t be ashamed to feel it, spill it, or just be in it. But don’t lose hope in the midst of the pain. Brighter days will come – even if they look different than what you thought you wanted. Even in the midst of the negative pregnancy tests, the unwanted monthly visitor, the inconclusive tests, the miscarriages, the ups and downs… His plan for your family (however small or large) will be perfect. There can be hope and joy, even in the mourning.

Press on. Into the unexpected and, maybe, even the undesirable. Who knows what awaits us there. May we continue to be surprised by a God who is good and knows what we need and want far better than we do.

“One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.”

André Gide

“By clinging to what you know, you may miss out on what you have yet to discover.”

Duffy & Maggie Robbins
Posted on

What do you want to be?

“When I grow up, I want to be a vet.” – 7-year-old me.

“I’m gonna be a singer.” – 13-year-old me.

“I think I just want to be a wife and have kids.” – 19-year-old me.

It’s funny how time and circumstances change things. The things we wanted (or thought we wanted) are no longer plausible. When I began my senior year of college with no significant other and no prospect of romance in sight, I realized my ambitions of wifehood and motherhood might have to be put on hold for a bit. Years, really. And when this happens, you adjust. You have to.

The first few years I worked full-time at camp, guests would often ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” … only it took on the form of, “So, what do you want to do after this?”. I knew what they were really getting at. No one actually works at camp as a professional career, so what do you really want to do with your life?

The longer I stayed at camp, the more I realized that it was becoming a career. I was a “Camping Professional”, all while I was waiting for the whole wife thing to come to fruition. But when you don’t get married until you’re 30, you realize that your aspirations have to change a bit. And then, when you can’t get pregnant, they continue to have to change. You’re a working woman now. A true professional. An executive. A leader. You go back to school and get your Master’s. You value success in a bit of a different way. You even buy new clothes to match the new felt identity.

It’s funny how all of those dreams, even as a child, get tangled up in identity. Being a vet, a singer, a wife, a mom…. or a doctor, a teacher, a realtor, a pastor, an accountant. We “are” these things. It’s what we do, and it so easily becomes who we are. It is how we attempt to define ourselves to others, how we attempt to know others upon our first meeting: “Nice to meet you- what do you do?” It’s where we often find value and purpose. We gauge the successfulness of our humanity based on what our jobs are…or aren’t.

And when things don’t pan out the way we think they might, sometimes an abrupt shift of expectation is necessary. You find out that your foster care application didn’t get lost and you bring home a 6-day old baby a few hours later…in an instant, you’re a mom. A pandemic happens and working moms are suddenly stay-at-home elementary school teachers. Or parents who happily send their kids away to school in August are staring into a new world of homeschool and a variety of curriculums. Or people who have devoted their lives to their work are jobless, fiddling their thumbs, and not sure which direction is the next best move. Or people who are normally in an office surrounded by co-workers are now working remotely, in a kind of lonely solitude.

As I have processed through this identity crisis in my own life, I have realized I am not alone in the storm. So many of us are reeling with uncertainty and confusion, so many of us are facing realities that, six months ago, we could have never dreamed of. I am watching my husband go to work every day while I take care of a baby. A wife and a mom. It’s what I wanted… wasn’t it?

But somewhere along the way, things changed. They had to. And they will continue to morph. That’s just how life works.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s a question I asked my nephews, just the other day. I expected them to reply much as I had as a kid… and they did. But if my 36-year-old self were to be asked that question? I’d like to answer much differently.

When I consider being, I want to be someone who knows Jesus and lives my life in a way that reflects that, no matter what I do. Someone who seeks His interests, not my own.

Whether I’m a camping professional, or unemployed, whether I’m a wife, or a mom. When I change the answer to this question, answering the “What I do” question becomes a lot less significant. What I do matters significantly less than how I do it, or who I am in the process of doing it. When I answer the question this way, it doesn’t matter if my career changes 100 times. It doesn’t matter if I never get paid to work another day in my life again. It doesn’t matter if I never use the diploma I just received in the mail. It doesn’t matter if I’m a biological mom or a foster mom or single or married.

When we answer the “what do you want to be” question this way, there doesn’t have to be an identity crisis when life abruptly hands us something new. Because, we know who we are… or, at least, who we are becoming.

Maybe you’re like me… a bit disoriented from sudden life changes, attempting to process through your worth and your value, considering what your purpose is. Perhaps life, even before COVID-19, hasn’t turned out the way you thought it would. Perhaps you’re still single. Perhaps your kids are doing things that break your heart. Perhaps you can’t have kids. Perhaps you’ve recently lost someone you love. Perhaps your health is failing. Perhaps you’re collapsing under the weight of what decision you must make.

None of these things have much to do with what we do, but who we are in the wake of tragedy, loss, celebration, promotion, confusion… that matters.

Maybe the question needs to shift into “Who do you want to be?” What kind of person, when you grow up, do you want to be? Occupation aside… what kind of human are you going to be? Kind? Generous? Thoughtful? Selfless? Quick to assume? Judgmental? Patient? Prideful? Hateful? Bitter? Unforgiving? Forgiving? Believing that you’re better than… more qualified… more necessary? Someone who listens? Someone who loves, no strings attached?

I know the person I want to be. Hopefully, it’s the person I have been becoming over the years… as a student, a single lady, a camp employee… as a wife, a foster mom, a laid off employee. These things teach me along the way, but they never encompass everything I am or want to be.

And I know I can’t be that person without first knowing the One who embodies all the traits I long for. I can’t be that person without spending time with Him.

This current season will end. I may not be unemployed forever. I may not even be a mom forever (foster care angst). Right now feels a bit like eternity, because it’s all we can see. But, it’ll change. Somehow, in some way.

What kind of person will you be when it does?

What kind of people are we becoming? When we look back in 10 years at this season, will be proud of the actions and words, how we spent our time, the causes we stood for, the people we cared about?

And so I have to ask… Who do you want to be? And how are you becoming that person?

Posted on

Mom Wins

I hate it when my mom is right.

In fact, I probably fear that she’s right a whole lot more than I typically give her credit for. She’s recently gotten in the habit of pointing to the new growth on her head, emphatically reminding me how gray she is and telling me that it ain’t gray for no reason. I usually roll my eyes, but secretly I’m thankful for not only the woman she is in my life, but also the woman she is becoming. She’s a cancer warrior… a survivor.

This story isn’t about cancer though. It’s about her being right.
Growing up, my mom frequently told me that she couldn’t wait to see me have a daughter that was just like me. It was always said in the midst of an argument or while I was clearly being selfish, stubborn, indignant, etc., etc., etc. (which, yes, was almost all of the time). This is one of those things that I sincerely hope she’s wrong about. I don’t think I want a daughter just like me…

Anyway, as you’re most likely aware, I’ve recently left my job and while I’m still doing a few things hourly for them, my financial situation is no longer what it was. Working at a camp allows you to cut corners on a few things (rent, utilities, oftentimes food), and while your salary isn’t anything to brag about, you’re also not paying a lot of the expenses that ‘normal’ people have to.

In the midst of this transition, insurance became a fun topic of discussion. Honestly, I have a hard time caring about insurance because I’ve never really needed it. I never grew up going to the doctor (partially because my dad is one), but I just didn’t have many reasons to (aside from the time I got my finger smushed off). The last 6 years have been quite low key as far as my medical expenses have gone. Why wouldn’t that trend continue on?

I’m currently insurance-less.
I’m also, now, getting surgery tomorrow.

Several days ago my throat starting swelling and my jaw started throbbing, and while I’ve felt similar pain here before, something was a bit different this time. I choked down some ibuprofen, sure that this would pass, and enjoyed my merry day.

Each night I’d go to bed, hoping that I’d wake up the next morning and feel remarkably better. Each night I’d wake up several times, unable to swallow and with pain in the back of the right side of my mouth. Since I was adamant about not going to a doctor or a dentist, I searched and searched until was able to get a sufficient self-diagnosis.

No big deal… just my wisdom teeth. And just an infection that I should get looked at immediately…
While I had great plans to get rid of the infection on my own, I knew that unless I got antibiotics  I wasn’t going to feel better. I also wasn’t so worried about actually getting the teeth taken out, but the money that it would require to do so.

This is the part where my mom comes in, as evidenced below:

It wasn’t so much the latter part of our conversation that struck an ‘a-ha’ chord in me… but, she made a great point that I rolled my eyes to at the time (can’t you just taste it in that ‘Ha.’?). Ultimately, the pain had gotten pretty unbearable, so I finally sucked it up, found a dentist within walking distance, made an appointment and went (I only had to walk part-way in the rain, don’t worry).

“You’re definitely going to need those out soon.”
I know.
I know. I just don’t want to spend thousands of dollars to do it, okay really nice lady??

I was referred to the Oral Surgeon with an consultation scheduled for that same day, and there was the promise of getting me into surgery before the end of the week…giving me plenty of time to heal before my next travels.

My mom’s words rang in my head again. Don’t you hate it when that happens? She had a point.

I did have the money. The money isn’t mine to hold onto. Here is provision staring at me in the face and all I can think about are the what-ifs of my future. What if I need that money to go to grad school? What if I can’t find a job once these next few months are over? What if I get into some other financial trouble with my car or my health and I need that money? 

What if…? 

Dang, we can sure play that game for a while, can’t we…?

What I realize? I have been taken care of for today… and I don’t need to worry about all the what-ifs of tomorrow. Shoot, maybe my mom is right and I’ll meet a rich, single man to help out with finances. But, if not… I’m not worried. Because my God is a God who provides.
And so today…? Today I’m just thankful.

Let’s not forget it.
Even when we have to spend money and our bank accounts dwindle.

And, in the meantime, maybe I’ll walk away tomorrow with some sort of memory like this to cherish forever.

* * *
Your entries will remain anonymous
Proudly powered by WordPress