by Dana Hess Glessner

To better understand my story, I should let you know about three of my personality traits: 1) hyper-planner 2) uncertainty-hater 3) family-focused. They are at times my gifts, though often my downfall. When I was in Elementary school, I remember writing in a journal the first and middle names of the six children I hoped to have, and what year they would be born, as well as designing the lay out of our family home. I am always thinking about the future, and devising an ever-changing five-year plan, and working toward the next step.

Partly because I am a super-planner, I graduated from college when I was 20, finished my masters in social work and got married to my husband, Justin, when I was 23, and had my first baby at 27. Everything seemed to be going according to plan – ahhhhh. I hate uncertainty! This may explain why my husband and I only dated for three weeks before we got engaged – I can’t handle unknowns. Also, my family is close (my friends say “tribal”), and I have always wanted to have a large family.

Accomplishing pregnancy with my son Clay was easy. So when we decided we wanted another baby, I thought it would be no problem. The first year of trying to conceive I strove to do everything right: I visited a naturopath, I tracked my temperature to help predict ovulation, I followed suggestions of well-meaning family and friends (more sex, less sex, changes in diet, vitamins, herbal remedies, etc). Every month brought tears and frustration.

After a year, Justin and I met with a fertility doctor, and he ordered some tests. Healthy sperm – check. Healthy eggs – check. Clear tubes – check. Good hormone levels – check. The doctor concluded that we had unexplained infertility, and a good prognosis, given my age and previous pregnancy. He said 85% of couples conceive the first year of trying, and that half of the remaining 15% conceive the second year, and he suggested we keep trying for another year.

The second year brought many more tears. I turned 30 that year, and it seemed everyone I knew was pregnant. The triggers were unavoidable: big families at the park, the way Clay fawned over babies, people who got pregnant twice in the time I was trying for one baby, friends lamenting unplanned pregnancies. I was the only one in my 8-member women’s group who was not pregnant or breastfeeding. When Clay turned 3, more and more people started asking me about plans for a second baby. I felt like the cloud of longing followed me everywhere.

After two years, we went back to the doctor, and he recommended a new course of treatment. After our first round of treatment, we were overjoyed to discover we were finally pregnant! Our two-year wait was finally over, and God had finally answered our prayers! To make a long, painful story short, we found out during an ultrasound at seven weeks that things were not looking good with the baby, and a couple weeks later I had a nasty and heartbreaking miscarriage (I suppose they all are). After a few months of recovery, I am now back in treatment, and we continue to pray.

When I reflect on the heartache of the past two and a half years, and the pain I continue to carry with me every day, what most stands out is the tender care of Jesus. His love has far overshadowed the pain. He has met me, and held me, and provided comfort in countless ways: Scripture, worship music, on-line sermons, provisions in other areas of life. Jesus has surrounded me with a community that has overwhelmed me with support and love, and I am enjoying closer friendships in this season than ever before in my life.

I know God is doing good work in my heart through this dark time, and I am grateful that he is giving me some glimpses of this fruit he is cultivating. Finding meaning in the suffering makes it easier for me to bear. I still find comfort in planning, but I notice my hands and heart are more open to God, realizing that His wisdom is far above mine. His call to me in this season of longing and waiting seems to be to live each day to the fullest, not worrying about the future, and to savor the many gifts He has given today.

I also notice that God is helping me be more okay with unknowns, and nudging me to turn to the certainty of Him in a life of uncertainty. I feel God is helping me hold the need to know and be in control a little more loosely, and somehow this lets me hold people a little more closely. One way I already notice this is in my work as as a mental health therapist. I feel called to care for people in pain, and my own pain has helped me be softer and more empathetic.

And as far as a desire for family, this has only intensified in the past 2 years, and I feel that God is okay with that. He is guiding me to somehow hold both the desire for Him and the desire for children. Maybe this is why when I am sobbing in my car and blaring Chris Tomlin's songs, I feel like I am both grieving and celebrating. And so I continue to wait, and grieve, and hope, and soften, confident that I am not alone.

"Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior."
- Habakkuk 3:17-18.

Dana Hess Glessner grew up at Bethany and practices social work in Vancouver, B.C. Justin is under Bethany’s care in the Ordination process.