In my last post I explained that I’ve been asking God to give me the hard things for about a decade. This is the beginning of the story that God has laid on my heart to share. Maybe your story is similar or maybe the things God has given you seem far greater and heavier than what He’s given me. That’s okay. We all have a story to share. And I want to give God the glory through sharing mine. I hope that through this, you will share your hard things with others, so they can find hope and encouragement, just like I have been encouraged through the stories of others’ lives. This is only part one of my story.
A decade ago… that would take us back to the end of my high school years. I asked God then to give me the hard things. I wanted others to know Jesus like I knew Him. I wanted them to see Him through me and in me. To me that meant that if they saw me going through the hard things, praising Him, He would be glorified and lifted up by others as well.
About this time in high school is the time that everyone began thinking of their futures. Some of my friends wanted to be nurses, some teachers, some business professionals, and others didn’t know for sure. I fell into that last category. I had no clue what I wanted to be in the working world. I did know, however, that I wanted to be a mom and a wife more than anything else.
My heart longed to marry Brian and start a family. I was only 17, but I knew that was what I truly wanted. I confided in God, Brian, my parents, my friends and some teachers saying, “I don’t know what I want to do!!” A teacher helped me see some strengths in myself that I could not definitively see: I enjoyed helping people. I enjoyed children. I enjoyed being creative. I enjoyed being productive. She told me that she could see me being a teacher. And when I thought about it, that sounded great. I actually liked that idea. And so I pursued becoming a teacher. But in the depths of my heart, I yearned and longed to be the wife and mommy that I knew I was created to be.
Fast forward a few years, it was 2011.
I was in college working toward becoming a teacher. I was engaged to Brian and planning our wedding. And I was diagnosed with PCOS. When I was diagnosed with this, the midwife spoke with me about what was going on and explained it in two minutes-at most:
- I had something called PCOS, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It simply meant I had tons of small cysts all over my ovaries.
- The immense pain I was experiencing occurred during the middle of my cycle because that was when my body was trying to ovulate, or release eggs, and as a result, the cysts would burst.
- When I wanted to get pregnant, consult the doctor because my body probably did not release eggs. Not all, but most people with PCOS struggle getting pregnant.
I was married, finishing up my masters degree, and substitute teaching. At that same time, Brian and I agreed that we should stop preventing having babies, and just see what would happen. But I remembered the voice of the midwife from several years before, “Not all, but most people with PCOS struggle getting pregnant.” That wasn’t the voice I wanted to hear. So I pursued God. He brought me to Psalms and poured directly into my heart as if He was sitting right next me over coffee.
- I had a thyroid problem: my thyroid was underworking and my numbers were way, way too high contributing to my weight gain. In other words, I had hypothyroidism.
- I did not ovulate: I didn’t have any eggs that were released around my estimated ovulation time, due to my PCOS. In other words, what my body needed to do in order to get pregnant was not happening.