Hand to Hold

14/08/2021 @Janina Jayme-Salubo

My eyes are still burning from all the crying I have done today. My soul, although in anguish and despair, is paradoxically full of hope. My heart is aching but is peaceful.

Three years ago, Lemuel and I agreed to withhold ourselves from having a baby in the first year of our marriage. We said we wanted to enjoy our time alone together. We said we needed to save up to support our future kids. We said we had to mature first as a married couple. At least those are what we would say when people around us would ask us why we're still not parents.

A year after, we were ready. I was checked up by an OB. No anomaly; only a little infection brought by hormonal imbalances from stress. I was confident it would be easy. I just had to monitor my ovulation period and make love with my husband. Months after months flew by, our friends who have been married after us were announcing one by one that they're pregnant. I have to admit that though I was celebrating with them, my heart was crushed with the thought that we are being left out even if it's not a race. To be frank, there had been times when I loathed my friends for posting on social media the joys of their pregnancies. They were not wrong; I was just vulnerable. I would play in my mind how I would behave when I have come to the same phase: that I would be discreet about my journey, that I would be much sensitive towards the couples that are struggling with infertility, that I would cherish each day that my baby is in my womb, that I would sing worship songs to him/her, that I would read the Bible to him/her, that I would serve the Lord even when I am expecting so he/she would know that it is the right kind of living. So many plans and dreams: this would be his name if he's a boy, and this when she's a girl. I would make our kids love vegetables. Maybe, I could homeschool them if this pandemic still exists. I would teach them to seek God and revere Him. Maybe, I wouldn't be too strict; I'd make them understand the Biblical concept of righteousness, and allow them to act according to the work of the Holy Spirit. I would pray for them daily so they wouldn't go astray.

Anticipation — delayed periods are glimpses of hope. I found myself counting days, taking notes of every possible symptom: backaches, spotting, food aversion, pelvic pain, cramps. I explored through web pages how these signs go together. I took PTs, only to see one line. I thought I just tested too early and needed to try again next week. Though I had convinced myself to be ready for the "bad", I still longed to see the "good". And then, there's brown discharge (Sorry, TMI). Confused, I would consult Google: "Is this normal?", "Is it PMS or pregnancy?", "How much bleeding is normal in pregnancy?", "Do you pass blood tissues during implantation bleeding?", "Am I miscarrying?" For someone who hasn't have a child yet, I bet I have been so knowledgeable for being in the same boat over and over again for the past months. Then, I bleed. And it's not like it's abnormal when I have been having this monthly blood flow since I was in sixth grade. But it hurts physically and emotionally when my lower back and abdomen are like being squeezed while my heart is seemed to be quashed by the truth that again I have failed to become a mother for another month.

Satisfaction — this is something that God has been teaching me. I have never considered myself materialistic. I can live without having much. But satisfaction, in a Christian sense, goes a lot deeper than that. What is my source of joy? When all the people I love vanish away, could I still be living a life of purpose? When all the things God has given me be taken away, could I still find joy in living? I have struggled hard to answer. I love my husband so much. It goes the same with my parents. I love loving my loved ones. And if there would be those little bundles of joy, I would love them too. But I have tried to consider a hypothetical life minus each one of them. Can I seriously live? And though my tongue is tied, the Spirit within me whispers a resounding "YES!"

My strong desire to have our own children is not tantamount to being incomplete. And a lot of times, such longings don't die out because they are meant to be fulfilled. But even if they are not, the fullness of my being is in Christ alone.

Completion — I have thought for a time that being a wife consequently means becoming a mom. But I have learned a fun fact from Song of Solomon. God wanted us to see the joys of human love and marriage without any regard for procreation. There are even much more realizations for me. Before Lemuel, I am already complete in Christ. Jesus has been the Lover of my soul. But God being good, in His grace, I was led to Lemuel to live a righteous happy married life, serving God and giving glory to Him. We are complete in Christ as individuals and as a couple. My strong desire to have our own children is not tantamount to being incomplete. And a lot of times, such longings don't die out because they are meant to be fulfilled. But even if they are not, the fullness of my being is in Christ alone.

Today, I've gotten my heart pierced again; not for the failure of being pregnant, but for trying to find joy from a fleeting source. No, I haven't given up on my dream of becoming a mother — or, I have given it up to God, now. But I hated myself for trying to demand grace from God. How foolish was I to obligate God to be gracious to me! For which cost? For serving Him? — when even my service to Him is only by His grace alone.

Imagine falling at the edge of the cliff, holding tight to the end of the rope, losing grip, on the verge of giving up, hurting from the friction —but only to find a hand to hold. For me, that rope is my hope for a child. I hung to it for my life. Meanwhile, the hand is God. He has come through. He has reached out to me and saved me once again. He is my Portion. He is my Joy. He is my Reward. He is my Hand to hold.