Over the past few years, Ritchie and I have visited with a few of the best fertility doctors in the city. We wanted to have some closure around our miscarriage and we wanted to explore our options for moving our family into the future. After meeting with various local experts, we had a choice to make. We could:
Spend $17,000+ to poke ourselves with needles, hand over bodily fluid samples, spend countless hours in stirrups and doctors offices and hope that all of that would result in a new member of the family.
Or we could try something that seems outlandishly simple and actually makes quite a bit of sense. We could drop all the diagnostic labels that we’ve accumulated over the years and live intentionally & joyfully. You see, I’m a gardener. And plants, like other things bearing the signature of God’s creation, when properly nourished and supported, tend to bear fruit rather effortlessly.
So I decided to change our diagnosis (after putting the autoimmune condition in remission, I give myself permission to do things like that :)). Our diagnosis is not filling the measure of our creation in the present. So our prescription is to change that and use our resources to infuse our life with as much joy and meaning as our moments allow.
I think this is definitely a conceivable plan.