Certain thoughts have been percolating in my brain for days.
In January of 2009, I went in for what was supposed to be a routine out-patient laporoscopic cystectomy (see
here,
here, and
here for blog posts about the experience). As I emerged from under the cloud of anesthesia afterward, my doctor loudly and quickly explained that they had found no cyst on my right ovary after all. I remember blinking a lot, trying to focus my blurry vision in the garish light. I just wanted to go back to sleep. Oh, and OW! I was in pain! The doctor said she didn't know what was causing my pain or why a "cyst" had appeared in my ultrasound and then not been there once they got inside. She offered a quick apology and left. My blinks began to change to teary ones. I was so confused.
Why had I needed to experience so much pain, all for what seemed like nothing?And then it came. My physical pain, along with all the sudden awareness of my situation, welcomed a new partner. All the emotions of being "unchosen" just days before the surgery showed up. Only a week before, we had been in such a blissful state as a family. We had been chosen by a beautiful young woman to be parents to the son she was carrying. Carter hadn't stopped talking about baby brother in M's tummy. We'd enjoyed our visits with her, and had especially loved meeting her family. When we got her brief e-mail explaining that she'd changed her mind, I wasn't completely surprised. Something hadn't felt right the last time we met. I was okay. I didn't feel as hurt as I should have. Plus, I'd been overwhelmed with feelings of love for her and knew that although I might never understand, there was some purpose that what had transpired had needed to take place. I continued to think of and pray for M daily. I thought I was just being strong...
Now, put me back into the surgery recovery area described above and it all came rushing in, uninvited. I became a blubbering mess. The nurses looked at each other, unsure of how to deal with me. I cried harder as they treated me in a very stern, cold way. I apologized for the tears and tried to explain my complicated emotional state. They didn't seem to want to listen. I could almost feel them rolling their eyes. To sum it up, the doctor's news had been the last straw that broke my back.
I was relieved to have Shane return to my side. I was still confused and in pain, but he looked me in the eye and talked with me (unlike my busy nurses that day). Shane held my hand and he let me cry. I didn't have to apologize to him for my tears.
I was supposed to leave the hospital and go home that day. I just felt
heartbroken. I didn't know how I was going to return to my normal life and take care of Carter the way I felt.
I can't remember the exact sequence of events at this point, but I remember that I certainly didn't go home that day. I developed cardiac complications. My heart transitioned from a regular rhythm into
atrial fibrillation (a.k.a. A-fib). I was in the hospital for 4 days. During that time, I underwent a process called cardioversion. I'll let
Wikipedia explain:
Cardioversion is a medical procedure by which an abnormally fast heart rate or cardiac arrhythmia is converted to a normal rhythm, using electricity or drugs. Synchronized electrical cardioversion uses a therapeutic dose of electric current to the heart, at a specific moment in the cardiac cycle. Pharmacologic cardioversion, also called chemical cardioversion, uses antiarrhythmia medication instead of an electrical shock.
My cardiologist felt I was a better candidate than most patients (I get that a lot because most cardiac patients tend to be much older than me) for chemical cardioversion. I was not going to complain about having a drug administered as an alternative to being shocked with the code cart! Of course, they got me all ready just in case it came to that...that was really scary. You see those carts on TV and in movies all the time. It is a very different story when you are actually hooked up to one and someone is standing at the ready next to you, watching your monitor closely.
It felt like half the hospital came into my room to "observe" my cardioversion. We joked that it was a party. They told me I was sort of famous in the hospital that day. I think they were just bored. I tried to put on a brave face and smile as more and more people peeked through my door to ask if I minded them coming to watch. And in my heart, my imperfect, out of control heart, I prayed and prayed and prayed that they wouldn't have to use that cart.
Well, the miraculous thing happened. The first attempt worked and
I felt my heart literally change. It went from racing, random, and out of control to slow, steady, and strong. I went from winded, exhausted, and scared to relaxed and relieved. Of course we were still cautious, but there was a subdued explosion of celebration. Everyone turned to me smiling and clapping. I offered a silent prayer of gratitude and tears welled up in my eyes.
I have thought often over the last 18 months of the phrase
change of heart.
I believe it is used, like many phrases, with casual reference.
The heart is referred to as the center of one's being. A change, especially a mighty change as described in the scriptures, can be life-altering or sustaining.
My experience reminded me and taught me how peaceful the results of change can be, although pain and turbulence usually precede change. I never wanted anything as much as I longed to be a
mother. Just a couple months after we were married in 2001, I was bluntly told not to get pregnant or I would "probably die." My world came crashing down around me. We had not wanted to wait. We both have large families of origin and looked forward to beginning to build a family. Slowly, over time, and through a lot of pain and confusion and fear (which I know was not from God - 2 Tim. 1:7), I learned many things.
My heart was changed in many ways. I would think I could last one more year and no more without becoming a mother...then a year would come and go and we'd get through it and I'd learn to lean on Him more and more. I missed a lot of church, and cried a lot of tears. Our church's focus on family is wonderful, but can be painful when growing a family seems as though it will never be attainable. Well-meaning people say hurtful, thoughtless things sometimes, simply because they don't understand. I'm sure I've hurt someone unknowingly too. Yet another thing I've learned through this experience is to try to be less judgmental and more empathetic because I likely don't understand what trials others are facing.
To make a very long story a bit shorter, finally, after about 4 years or so, I learned that it was okay to let it happen in His timing. The adversity I faced was mine. You may experience something similar, or something very different, but in the end we all have adversity come into our lives. I found I finally arrived at a place where I was truly able to give my will and my burden to Him, unconditionally, and to really mean it when I offered, "Thy will be done," no strings attached. It was then that I was able to start appreciating the
everyday miracles happening around me. My eyes were opened and I began to see
the Lord's hand in my life.
This passage from Kerstin Daynes' incredible book,
Infertility: Help, Hope, and Healing, had me underlining almost every sentence:
As with apostles of old, we who experience trial such as infertility can also know through interim blessings and miracles that things are working together for our good. These small and simple miracles can sustain us. They will help us enlarge our belief in Heavenly Father's power, and our faith will be encouraged...Miracles in our lives become obvious as we focus our eyes through searching, praying, and believing.
It is important to remember, as Elder Dallin H. Oaks taught, that "the will of the Lord is always paramount"; we cannot change His will. We can, however, change ours. This change is undoubtedly a very difficult task, requiring much time on bended knee and in spiritual meditation. But in the end, aligning our will to Heavenly Father's is a miracle in and of itself and will bless our lives beyond measure.
How do miracles happen? Miracles "are a response to faith....They [are] never wrought without prayer, felt need, and faith." They will happen in the Lord's time and in the Lord's way. We should not suppose that we can determine the schedule of our Heavenly Father; after all, He is the One with a perfect and eternal perspective and can see the end from the beginning. As hard as it is to admit, we can only control the choices we make, and those choices determine the lives that we live. We can choose to live a faith-filled life regardless of the ups and downs we encounter. Remember, miracles will cease only when faith has ceased.
On May 1st, I officially went into A-fib again. The following day (and after a sleepless night), peace came into my heart once again following cardioversion. It was a more drawn-out and difficult process this time because the chemical attempt was unsuccessful, so they had to use the dreaded code cart. Although the change was a more "shocking" one (bad joke, I know), it was still followed by the relief of change. I have since been reminded of the change of heart of a spiritual and emotional kind I processed through the trial of having to wait for motherhood.
{If you've made it this far, bless you! You must be really bored...}
In summary, I guess I just want to share a bit if the hope and perspective I've gained.
You are never left alone. In the deepest, darkest part of your hardest trials, miracles exist. Join me as I try to continue sharpening and focusing my vision to see the miracles of the everyday that make life worth living to the fullest.
P.S. I am SO blessed. Mommyhood was totally worth the wait!
{photo taken 6/13/2010}
