Count it all joy - Pregnancy Journey Part 1

It feels odd trying to get pregnant. Why am I ‘trying’ to get pregnant? This is supposed to be a naturally occurring thing, no? There isn’t supposed to be a struggle, no tears. You are supposed to have sex and before you know it, you are throwing up in the toilet and hoping you aren’t pregnant. That’s what the movies show us…that slight moment between realization and regret, a dawning that we are pregnant so we might as well deal with it. It is hardly ever planned for before you get married and no one ‘tries’ to get pregnant. It just happens; it is just supposed to happen. But here I am ‘trying’ to get pregnant.

From one doctor to another, and it was always sad news. I think it is a Nigerian thing that no one ever starts with, ‘I am sorry but…’. Or maybe this is another thing the movies lied to us about. They just go straight into what the problem is, giving you no time to process that something bad is about to happen. So, you end up crying mid – conversation because the rug has been violently removed from under your feet. I got married as a virgin. This was not supposed to happen to me. At the time, a part of me thought that maybe I should have slept around a bit seeing as it wasn’t that easy for me to get pregnant. The Holy Spirit rebuked me because that isn’t the goal of celibacy but…what was the point? If things were not going to come easily after all my efforts at abstaining, the rebuke, the jesting etc., what was the point?

I remember the nights I would wake up crying and wondering if I had offended God. Sometimes, I would get back from work and be unable to do anything. I would just sit at the dining table, tears flowing. My husband would come back, see me and we would end up with our faces on the floor praying, with my wailing sounds as our worship instrumentals playing in the background. Sometimes I would go to church, climb on stage to sing filled with a bit of hope that my period hadn’t begun. Maybe, just maybe this was it. And all of sudden, as I sang praises or had my head bowed in worship, I would feel the blood flow; I wasn’t pregnant. Other times, I couldn’t even enter the church. My husband would ask if I was coming to church and I would respond that I would come in the other car. I didn’t want to leave my house. But in honour and out of respect for my husband, I would go to church but my feet wouldn’t carry my body into the presence of God; maybe He didn’t like me. So, I would stay in the car and cry. As soon as I heard my Pastor end the service, I would drive back home before anyone saw me.

It's funny how bible verses rise up in your spirit when you are going through something. The bible verses that kept rising up in my spirit were from James 1:2 – 4 which says, ‘consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.’ And at every stage of my pregnancy, from trying to get pregnant to getting pregnant to giving birth, this was a resounding part of my journey, because it helped me to learn the true meaning of faith and gratitude.

But I do not like these verses (I have always wondered if I am allowed to feel that way about the Bible). As a Christian, things are at least supposed to come easy for me. I pray and I have faith (or maybe it is wishful thinking?) I just know that I have given up too many worldly things for my life to still have even the slightest bit of hardship in it. But here we are having to ‘consider it pure joy’. This is easier said than done.

The doctors had said I had PCOS. Some had said my prolactin levels were elevated and it may be preventing me from getting pregnant. Some said one of my tubes may be blocked while another said both of them were likely blocked. Others said that I had fibroids and the position of one of the fibroids was preventing me from getting pregnant and even if by some luck I did get pregnant, I would have miscarriages because it would prevent my baby from staying and growing in the womb. I was not okay. I felt myself going back into depression, falling back into a deep bottomless hole.

I am Igbo, and although I was grateful that there was no pressure from my husband and his people regarding having a child, I could sense the worry, the pity and sadness from my parents, family and friends. It just wasn’t a good place to be and I had to look for a way out of the hole that I had created. So, I began to focus on God. I began to focus on being thankful and being grateful. I stopped focusing on what I didn’t have and instead focused on what I had. I was determined that the devil wasn’t going to take my worship. I went from crying to God in pain, to crying to God in reverence; I was getting back to my old self when it came to the things of God. There were times I slipped because the road for me was slippery, but I would get back up and my focus? God.

I was doing a lot better, so much better. Things were mentally and emotionally looking up for me. Then the worst came. I was in Lagos working at the time, and one of my doctors called. He was a British doctor so the rug wasn’t violently taken from under me. He was calm and informed me that it would be impossible for me to get pregnant without IVF and in fact my husband and I needed to do a special kind of IVF called ICSI (Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection). We found out that my husband’s sperm count was not only low, but the number that was present were of low motility. The doctor went on to say that he would be pleasantly surprised if I ever got pregnant without medical intervention. After the phone call, I did not know when I laughed, but laugh I did. Whether it was in pain, at the devil, in disbelief or even happiness, I am not quite sure. But I laughed. The rollercoaster of emotions was about to begin once more because how was I going to tackle this new information? ‘Consider it pure joy’.

And I tried. I really did try. I got back home to my husband and I was happy. I was able to serve in church and I didn’t try to carry a heavy weight on my shoulders. Did I cry once or twice in pain to God? I did. I even heard God’s voice during ‘The Festival’ a program in my church, where He said, ‘why are you looking for what I have already given you?’ He sounded angry and impatient. I wanted to continue the conversation. I asked a variety of questions including, ‘do I have to trigger what you have already given me by doing IVF?’ Silence. However, as the months went on, I got better. My joy may have not been pure. It may have been laced with an acceptance of my situation and the overall acceptance that I may never have a child. But I got to a point where I was no longer angry with God, for ‘His ways are not my ways, neither are His thoughts my thoughts’ and one very important thing? I wasn’t going to let it affect my marriage.

I was asked when I planned to do the IVF/ICSI procedure seeing as it was my only option, and I told everyone I would go through with the procedure in June, 2024. I do not think I was going to go through with it; I was going to mentally and emotionally run away and stay away from everyone who was involved. That would be my parents, my pastors, siblings, friends, etc. At this time, I was about to relocate permanently to Lagos for work so I was also physically going to run away. That was the plan and I kept it to myself. I was frightened of the IVF procedure; the mental and emotional load. What were the chances that this would work? What about the cost? I was told I was going to have miscarriages because of the fibroid, so what was the guarantee that it would work? What about the pain? I had heard stories; I had seen friends go through this and I didn’t want to go through it. I had told God when I was younger that I didn’t want to have to go through IVF to conceive, so why was this happening? But ‘consider it pure joy’. Nevertheless, I planned to run away. Maybe next year we could revisit the subject…maybe.

Then 23rd April, 2024 as I was getting ready for work, I saw a lone pregnancy test. My period was supposed to start that day but it hadn’t and I thought, ‘why not just take the test and see’. I peed on the stick, waited for the stated amount of time, checked and it was negative. Nothing new to see here. I threw it in the bin and got ready for work wondering when mother nature was going to kick in. Then I felt the Holy Spirit tell me to go and look at the stick again. And I did, thinking, ‘what more could I lose?’ and there they were, the two straight lines. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I screamed, startling my husband. I called my father, screamed for my mother and sent my Pastor a message. It had finally happened. The battle was finally over; I was pregnant. I didn’t know that it had just begun.