Walking through a medical emergency or a lingering health condition wasn't what I signed up for.

"A marriage isn't defined as good when it simply lacks problems or when arguments are non-existent and issues are scarce...
A good marriage is to be seen as two people with the settled conviction that they will work through all and every issue in the healthiest way possible.
Reality is, two sinners WILL have issues but they CAN work through them, IF they are simply willing."
~Jackie Hill Perry

I have been doing some research on infertility and specifically on dealing with your partner's infertility. There are many great resources out there. I was actually shocked at how much there is if you know where to look. In my research, I came across several message boards and discussion groups dealing with the issue. After several hours of reading on the topic from many sources, I feel completely emotionally drained and morally disgusted. The number of people who would support a couple divorcing over the issue of infertility is shocking.

When I took my marriage vows, I naively promised to honor and cherish my husband for better or for worse, through sickness and health. I vowed to cling only unto him until death do us part. Neither one of us pictured our lives as anything other than 'normal.' As young, healthy people, we didn't plan for a major health crisis. I think we honestly pictured making chicken soup, snuggling under the covers and laughing at red, runny noses. At worst, we may have thought of nursing each other through a bad flu. (If we even gave it thought at all)

Walking through a medical emergency or a lingering health condition wasn't what I signed up for.

In our almost six years of marriage, we have gone through an incredible list of challenges. Two car crashes, both involving hospitalization, one involving multiple procedures, surgeries, and lingering complications. We have dealt with a whole list of marital issues, and even separated for a short while because of them. Not long after feeling like we were in a good place in our marriage, we went to the Dr. for help getting pregnant (after a couple of years of trying on our own). After many moths of testing and waiting, an infertility diagnosis wasn't what we were wanting.

After everything we had gone through, we should at least be able to make a baby. We deserved it. It seemed everyone we knew kept popping out babies left and right. Maybe we weren't doing it right. We tried everything. Positions, timing, diets, prayer, etc. Nothing worked. To add to the diagnosis, after further testing, we found out that it was male factor infertility. We were told that we should not only abandon our attempts at getting pregnant, but that we should immediately get on birth control. In the unlikely event that we were to conceive, we could end up with an unhealthy or disfigured baby. At worst, I would get pregnant, but it wouldn't be viable and would result in miscarriage. (Turns out, I have probably been pregnant many times but miscarried before I even knew) at best, we could end up taking care of a damaged child for the rest of our lives.

What a disheartening thing to hear. Not only can we not have kids, but we had just been told that we SHOULDN'T. Where do you go with that? How do you process it? A diagnosis is supposed to give you hope. Finally having a name for the invisible foe you have been battling is supposed to give you strength and a plan of attack, not bring you to a grinding halt and dash all hopes. Where was the hope? Where was our silver lining?

We both dealt with this news in our own way. I sunk into spiraling depression. I felt pulled deeper into it every single month I got my 'gift'. (Who ever thought to call it that?!) There was no hope. I even began to doubt God. If he really loved me, he would give me the desires of my heart. I had suffered enough, it was time for him to make a miracle happen. He didn't. (Not when I wanted it, or how I pictured it anyway.)

Through it all, despite the hurt and the anguish, I never wanted to divorce Cameron. Life wasn't turning out how I had pictured, but it was our life. I'm not saying I was a saint. We both had our moments of weakness. We fought and we yelled and we cried. I entertained those 'what if' thoughts, wondering how my life would have turned out had I married someone else, but I never once wanted to leave my husband.

Yes, being a mom has always been my lifelong dream. Even as a kid, I knew that if I were a mom, I could be happy with my life. I had other goals and aspirations, but always, those were second to motherhood. If I couldn't have that, my life as I had always envisioned would crumble. The foundation of who I thought I was would shift. How could I possibly handle it? Could I deal with a hurt this big?

I could, and I did. The thing is, I married my husband because I loved him. Yes, I dreamed of the future we could have together, but I was not promised anything when we got married other than him. I was not guaranteed a nice house, expensive shoes or vacations. I was simply guaranteed a life with this man, however long I was blessed to have him. That's it, nothing more.

Had I simply approached our union as a legally binding and confusing sperm donor program, yes, I would have divorced him. Who wouldn't? He couldn't fulfill his part of the contract.

HOWEVER, despite the fact that it is extremely difficult to implement, as christian wives, we are called to love our spouse even more than we love our children, and I really think that even means those hoped-for children I had dreamed of. Yes, you read that correctly. We should actually put the needs of our marriage and our spouse above that of our children.

I see my husband as much more than a sperm donor. When I married him, the two of us became one flesh. He is not infertile, WE are. WE are in a 50/50 partnership in this, shouldering the pain together. We are so blessed to be able to raise our son together and we couldn't imagine our lives without him. Had our IVF cycle not been successful, we would have been devestated. We would have probably had counseling and yes, there would have been struggles. We would have made the next step and faced the tough decisions TOGETHER.

We were one of the fortunate couples that had success with IVF. We had no guarantees going into it. The odds were against us. At the end of our cycle we only had one embryo. All our hopes were resting on this one baby that only had a 30% chance of implanting and completing our family. Because of this, we cemented in our minds that no matter what, we would be together. We loved each other and wanted a life together. No, it wouldn't look like we had pictured in our minds. Life is crazy, and it is hard to figure out, but we would figure it out together. Not raising our biological child was a real possibility for us, and it was scary and unknown, but we could do it... TOGETHER.

I can see others reading this and saying, "Yeah, but you got your baby. You aren't infertile any more. You are living your dream. What about me? You don't understand how bad it hurts to not get that baby. You can write about the 'high road' you *would* have taken had your IVF not worked, but you will never know how you would have actually handled it." I understand your feelings, and I mourn with you that you are not able to have children. However, I still struggle daily with our infertility. My son is 20 months old, and I long for him to have a sibling.

I see my friends and family produce multiple babies and I have to fight jealousy. I endure innocent remarks, asking when we are going to have another. I still want to run out and buy pregnancy tests when I'm a day late. (ok, maybe I have actually done it more than once.) I still want to snuggle all the new babies and my heart breaks with each pregnancy announcement I see or hear. This pain doesn't cheapen my love for my son, but there will always be an ache and a small part of my heart that yearns for something that only a miracle from God can provide.