This Is Not My Child

So, we made it to and through Transfer Day.

The day that one of our two frozen blastocyst was thawed and immediately put directly in to my uterus.

Kind of a big deal.

I feel like we’ve been waiting for this day for years (we have).  The day we know that there is a fertilized egg, a unique combination of our DNA, a teeny tiny baby hanging out, in me.

Here’s the scary part:  there is literally nothing we can do now to make sure this blastocyst implants, thrives, continues to grow.
I can sit on my bum all weekend (implantation takes 2 -3 days), I can eat a healthy and anti inflammatory diet (I am), and we can wait.  That’s it.

The fact that transfer day was on Good Friday is not lost on me.  I’ve spent just as much time preparing my heart for transfer day as I have for the celebration of Easter.  Its interesting how those things have mushed together.

As followers of Christ, on Good Friday we remember, grieve, and mourn the death of our Messiah.  He was publicly and brutally executed for crime he did not commit, taking on all sins past, present, and future.  In this grief, however, we have the blessing of redemption through the resurrection a short time later.  I am not a theological expert, there are many things I have a considerably hard time wrapping my head round and understanding.  I’m starting to understand some biblical mothers a little bit more, though.

Mary never asked to be the Holy Mother.  She was chosen.  She was given the blessing of being the earthly mother of the God King, and she knew from the very beginning that this child, this man, was only “hers” for a time.  She raised him, watched him grow, knowing he would be taken from her, but not knowing when.  She watched him minister, she watched him as he proved time and time again he was both God and man, the promised Messiah.  She watched her community, her nation, those in authority rise up against him.  She watched him beaten, she watched him die.  He was her responsibility for a time, he was under her care.  Jesus’s purpose was greater than Mary.  Greater than Joseph.  Greater than Jerusalem and the nation of Israel.  He was hers, but only for a time.

Hannah struggled with infertility.  She was miserable, beseeching God for a child.  The Lord granted her the desires of her heart.  She had Samuel for three short years.

For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to him.

A lot of people like to quote this verse, but I wonder if they remember the context?  Hannah said this to the Prophet Eli, as she dropped off a 3 year old Samuel to be dedicated to and serve the Most High for the remainder of his life.  Is this where hearts are during “baby dedications” when parents promise to raise their children in Christ-honoring standards?  This isn’t a redundant question, I honestly don’t know.  Closed womb and all, over here.

Hannah and Mary’s eternal perspective is one of the places I have dwelled this Easter season.  We will find out in a matter of weeks whether or not we get to keep this child for a time, or if we do not.  I have struggled with preparing my heart for a positive or not-so-positive answer.  After all, if we get my blood work back and our embryo implanted, I will be a mere 4 weeks pregnant.  I don’t have to go into great detail about how things can go south in the first trimester.  Miscarriage or a “chemical pregnancy” absolutely terrifies me.  With that in mind, I’ve been looking to another biblical mother.  Elizabeth.  She rejoiced at every moment, particularly in her pregnancy.  She, too, knew her son was due for an alternative life, for eternal things, and she rejoiced through her pregnancy.

So – while our blastocyst is not the Christ, the Prophet Samuel, or John the Baptist – I will rejoice through the whole process.   I go back to the rocks crying out if I do not praise him.

This embryo we just transferred, and the one still in the freezer?  The other 7 embryos that didn’t make it to blastocyst stage?  They are not ours, not ultimately.  These embryos, and then should they grow into children, they are mine for a time.  Eternally, they are the Lord’s.

So, while they are mine, I will love them.  I will celebrate them.  It may be for 10 short days, it may be for 10 short weeks, it may be for the rest of my life.

This is not my child.  This child belongs to the Author of Life, the Creator of Heaven and Earth.


2 thoughts on “This Is Not My Child

  1. What an AWESOME blog. You touched my heart and I would love to follow your journey! I went to school with your mom. I am really excited for y’all! God’s Richest Blessings on you and your family!


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