The day had come, after months of waiting for it. It was finally time to close the door to a chapter of our lives that had been all consuming. As much as I wanted to move on, I knew that there was no turning back at this point and I felt conflicted. The physical pain I was about to undergo was nothing in comparison to the emotional storm brewing in my heart.
Why me? Why now? After everything. Why?
My mom and husband drove with me to the hospital. I listened to the song Cornerstone by Hillsong over and over again while we drove to the hospital. I could not stop crying. I didn't want to do this. I wanted to run, to hide, to lay in bed under the covers and pretend like this wasn't happening.
Over and over again I sang the lyrics to the chorus-
Christ Alone; Cornerstone.
Weak made strong in the Savior's love.
Through the storm, He is Lord. Lord of all.
Even in this. In my storm. As my world was crashing down around me, He is Lord. I clung to my faith and trust in Jesus. What else did I have? Every turn, ever mile, every second of that ride hurt deeper than anything I have ever felt.
Part of the song says, "My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly trust in Jesus name...my anchor holds within the veil" That was it...I had to dig my anchor in deep. It was time to put my faith into action and TRUST. Trust that He alone would carry us through. That He alone had planned our family out and that this was part of His plan.
I dug my anchor in deeper as we parked the car.
I dug my anchor in deeper as I checked into pre-op.
I dug my anchor in deeper as they hooked up my IV.
I dug my anchor in deeper as I signed the papers for them to take out the one body part I had begged to work for 10 years.
My tumors were complicated and tricky, ugly and massive. My doctor had a team of people helping her. She explained the process she hoped to do, her back up plan, and the back up plan for the back up plan. In the end she had to do a whole different procedure, one that hasn't been used for this before, and had to leave the OR to get Josh's permission for that.
Just before they started my IV my doctor sat on my bed and asked me how I was. I had been crying the entire morning and the tears would not stop. She held my hand and hugged me and Josh as we cried and mourned this. She knew how hard this was. She watched me suffer physically but she understood too that this was a deep loss for us. She promised me that if she could some how save it and remove only the tumors she would...but I knew she was just saying that to make me feel better. She was kind and compassionate to me. She said in her thick Turkish accent that she will never understand why this is so hard for some women. Neither will I.
I don't remember much more from that point, but when I woke up, it was over. A nurse confirmed that they had to do a hysterectomy in the recovery room. I cried hard. She made the mistake of telling me that I could always adopt. I screamed at her and told her to go get Josh...and woke up again to him standing by my side.
And that's where he has been. By my side when the grief strikes and I can't take it and when I start to worry about how our family will grow. He has been by my side for the recovery both physically and mentally. This happened to US, not just me. We have grieved, we have cried, but we have also laughed and learned to enjoy the things in life that make us smile.
I have five massive scars on my abdomen. I know how scars work, they will always be with me. They are a testimony of how hard I tried. They mark my body as a reminder that my body was also broken for our children, they brought about Hannah and Eden and the others that weren't meant to be...but over time they will begin to fade and heal. And so will my heart but only because I have dug my anchor in deep to the One who can be trusted. I don't know any other way.
