The IVF process was scary in some ways. Because it was so expensive, administering the medication ourselves was daunting. Every little vial of liquid was like gold, and I was terrified we’d do something wrong. The instructions were so specific that the clinic had one of their licensed teachers come to our house to go over the procedures with us.
Every morning and night, we mixed the correct concoction for the shots that would make my body receptive to pregnancy. Then Rick would give the shots to me. They didn’t hurt much, but I still hoped we were doing everything correctly. Considering how much we had paid, I thought they should be at our house doing it for us every time!
Plenty of people administer these procedures just fine, and such was the case with us. Still, it was emotional and a little nerve-racking to know that I was messing with my body’s chemistry and telling it to do something it wouldn’t otherwise do. Those shots didn’t feel connected to the process of baby making at all, as you can imagine.
We began the process of IVF in early January 2015. First came two weeks of shots for the egg production, which ended up being wildly successful for me. I produced an abundance of eggs, which was the first good sign. Some women will produce only a few and have trouble with finding good ones in the bunch.
Next we waited for the eggs to mature. Then the doctors would remove them. They would pick the healthiest eggs and actually do the IVF procedure, artificial insemination, outside my body.
This procedure, too, was another success—and every step was incredibly humbling.
We were finally ready to try to get pregnant, which is actually very simple and takes only a few minutes. Rick came with me to the office, and it was like any other day—but it was the day our son would be conceived in a sterile white room.
We were shown a picture of the cells they were about to put into my body. I still have the picture—those beautiful little cells that are now my baby boy sleeping upstairs.
The story of Jacob’s conception is not exactly the one most people envision for the start of a life, but it never bothered either of us. After all, this is how our family was being made. We had the means to do it, and we knew what we wanted—no sense in holding onto romantic notions about conception.
The bottom line is that Jacob was conceived in love—a chosen, planned, and prayed-for process that couldn’t compare to anything we might have dreamed up on our own. It was our story, and it was the perfect story.
I can say that now, and I believe it, but on the day of potential conception, we were nervous and trying not to get our hopes up. In my mind, I was ready to just concede the first round and start hoping for round two. Better to be surprised than disappointed, we reasoned.
But we weren’t to be disappointed. I left the clinic that day with the most precious thing I’d ever have already beginning to thrive and grow and multiply inside of me—literally making my dreams come true.
The next two weeks were a blur until I went in for a blood test to confirm whether the pregnancy had taken or not. I went in at seven in the morning, thinking we’d get the results right then. Instead, they said they’d call me later in the day to let me know. Disappointed, I left with nervous energy buzzing all through my body.
Rick decided to come home early from work to be with me when the results came in. I was waiting to get on a conference call when the phone rang. The number from the clinic lit up the caller ID. I calmly said hello and awaited my fate.
Rick was sitting on the couch staring, listening, waiting. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, I imagined it sounded sad, like she had bad news. Before she told me the results, I already kind of felt bad for her that she had to deliver news like this to couples so hoping for a baby.
But then she said what I wasn’t expecting: “Your pregnancy test was positive.”
“It’s positive?” I asked, confirming, and Rick jumped up and repeated, “It’s positive?” with an emotional, near-tears look of absolute joy on his face.
“Yes, it was positive,” said the nurse, with obvious happiness in her voice.
We couldn’t believe it. After only one round of IVF, I was pregnant. Rick started giving thanks to God. He had already been praying for this baby—who he would be and that God would have his heart—before this conception. Now this little person was growing and thriving—and would soon be in our arms.
We didn’t realize the stress we would have, waiting the next twelve weeks, praying that we would survive them without a miscarriage. I thought I’d feel better when we passed that milestone. But then I decided I’d feel better when he reached viability, so that “if anything happened” he’d still be able to survive. That still didn’t help.
I obsessed over how much the baby moved and got scared if I didn’t feel anything for a few hours. On a work trip to Colorado, I ended up heading over to the local emergency room because I hadn’t felt anything for twenty-four hours. They gave me a quick look and an ultrasound and confirmed that I still had a healthy, active baby in there.
Because IVF pregnancies are considered high risk, I had extra appointments and ultrasounds in the beginning. But after those first few weeks, I was no longer high risk. That being said, I didn’t mind the extra appointments. We were astounded by my twelve-week ultrasound when we saw a lively, bouncing, active little one inside of me. At twelve weeks, a baby is only two inches long, but we were shocked at how much like a fully formed, miniature baby he looked even then.
Rick and I held hands, and the tech asked us if we were ready.
“It’s a boy!” she said. It was clear this woman loved her job—sharing in one of the most special moments people have, helping them see their unborn babies in such a real way for the first time.
Rick’s face lit up, just as it would have if the baby had been a girl. It didn’t matter. We had a healthy baby—and he was a boy. Rick would have a son who would bring his healing full circle. This son would be the seal over his heart, helping to cover the scars and hurt. Life would no longer be just about him. It would be about this boy, whose room we would adorn with baseballs and soccer balls and a nameplate, who would teach us how to change diapers and soothe babies and love as we’d never loved before.
CHAPTER 37
JACOB JAMES SYLVESTER
We had decided to move to Indiana to be near our families—who lived within an hour of each other—to raise our son. Two weeks after we settled into a temporary rental apartment, Jacob James Sylvester was born on a miraculous morning in November. There was nothing special about the labor and delivery, nothing significant about the day, but it was and will remain the very best day of our lives.
It was the day when everything that happened in the past ceased to matter the way it did before—and the day that made Rick choke back tears at the thought of someone harming her own child the way his own mother did or abandoning him the way his father did. Looking down at the precious boy he had been given, he couldn’t imagine neglecting him or doing anything that would hurt him or make him feel anything but love.
This little boy, who looked a lot like Rick and couldn’t have been more perfect, symbolized everything that Rick had ever tried to do. Any failure or sadness was abolished with the grayish-blue eyes and the long, skinny toes, the tiny whimper and hungry gulps of a baby boy.
When a dream comes true—when the ultimate dream really comes true—and it’s something you thought would never happen, it’s humbling. Especially when it comes in the form of a tiny, breathing, beautiful human that, as it turns out, looks exactly like you. Rick appreciated this new title of Dad and knew every minute—every second—that Jacob was a gift from God. This was his blessing after getting through so many awful things. This child would reconcile him to joy and life and love in a way no one and nothing else could.
Rick describes Jacob’s birth day as “the most amazing day ever.” Before he was born, Rick was afraid of not being a good dad—and he really still is. It’s an overwhelming responsibility, knowing you must help sculpt a tiny human being and
make him into a functional member of society. Rick claims he barely has it figured out at nearly forty, so the anxiety level is sky high. He wants so much for Jacob—“to be everything I’m not,” he says—though I am quick to point out that he has plenty of amazing qualities I do want to see in our son.
Despite his insecurities, Rick said as soon as he saw his son enter the world that he “just knew” he was ready to be that baby’s dad. He was sure he could never love anyone as much as he would love him.
“He’s literally perfect in every single way. . . . To me, watching him be born was the most beautiful experience of my life,” Rick says.
Rick’s greatest hope is that Jacob will have a strong relationship with God—that God will be his heart and speak to his spirit. Other hopes and dreams that make the list include being intelligent, kind, athletic, courageous, and living free from the struggles Rick has had to endure.
“I hope he sees barriers as opportunities instead of being overwhelmed by life—and that he has a resilient spirit about him, a solid work ethic,” Rick says, ticking off a list.
His mind constantly reverts back to his mom and his childhood and all the things he never wants Jacob to experience. It’s hard to shake the fear of not being the parent you always wished you had.
More than anything, Rick wants Jacob to know he’s safe and secure and that all his needs will be met. Rick lived his entire childhood on a tightrope, always wondering if he would fall off and if he did, if anyone would catch him. As an adult, he still does the tightrope act sometimes, even though he knows there is a huge, beautiful, comforting net below him now—ready to welcome him should he misstep.
While Rick still looks down on himself in many ways, he recognizes that God has given him a good and beautiful heart—and that’s something he also wants for Jacob. Rick is concerned about teaching him to be a hardworking man with genuine authenticity and character in his bones. But he wants Jacob to have a sensitive side, to be a loving human being with compassion for others.
In a sense, Jacob’s birth has brought Rick’s spiritual transformation full circle. He describes it like this: “Jacob is God’s son; he’s not my son. I’m just his earthly father, the one God chose to raise him. I now have a better of understanding of how God loves me. . . . There’s just this love. I would die for Jacob just the way that Jesus died for me. You can’t really understand that love until you have a child.”
Another interesting thing happened after Jacob’s birth. Remember Rick’s intense battle with body image and his compulsion to maintain control over his life by working out? While the intensity of his workouts decreased over time, he still felt compelled to keep up appearances, always making the gym a priority.
When Jacob was born, however, Rick suddenly lost that compulsion to control his life by controlling his body. It wasn’t about letting himself go, but more about embracing the joy and freedom that had entered his life. Getting married was part of it, but being Jacob’s dad completed it. There was no need for a safety net anymore—he was safe. He was husband, father, beloved by Jesus and his family. The bullying from his mother and grandmother became a distant memory, and he no longer felt he needed to look perfect.
In fact, so much of the resentment and bitterness of what happened in his past had begun to shed by this point. Slowly, by embracing this life of grace for himself and letting himself be molded and shaped by the Holy Spirit, the chains of his former life were falling off. The change in Rick’s gym habits is just an example.
This really is the power and testament of being born again. Second Corinthians 3:17 confirms it: “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
There are no better words to describe the transformation that began taking place in Rick’s life more than five years before.
Eliminating exercise altogether may not be a great rule for lifelong health. But for a time, when you have felt like a slave to it for so long, it is healthy. It’s a sign that Rick doesn’t have to provide for his own self-worth anymore, because the people around him and the God who purposes every bit of his worth has already delivered that self-worth in his mind.
What a beautiful thing to behold—breaking from both the small and the large addictions in life through the incredible power of love.
CHAPTER 38
NEWBORN LIFE
With so many expectations bursting inside of him, Rick wasn’t prepared for the first few months of newborn life. He had no idea how hard it would be. Those early months can be challenging for anyone, but for someone with bipolar and childhood trauma, it’s a hundred times harder. Lack of sleep and massive life change can cause bipolar disorder to flare up. Having moved just two weeks before Jacob was born and starting a new job in Indiana, Rick was simultaneously experiencing three major life changes. It was too much.
As first-time parents, both of us worried every second that Jacob would stop breathing in the middle of the night. I’m an anxious person by nature. Rick’s anxiety issues are well documented. Putting two anxious first-time parents together with a newborn and no sleep or experience can make for an extremely difficult situation. Every little noise or lack of noise that came from Jacob was cause for concern. Neither of us had understood how precious or fragile a newborn baby could feel. We were terrified something would happen to him.
We had no idea how very different our parenting styles were. I, for one, didn’t know there were different ways to parent a newborn baby. But soon, it seemed, we were arguing about everything—from why we moved to Indiana to how often to change Jacob’s diaper to how to wash the bottles and who could hold him. Rick, especially, is very by-the-book, and he wants to do things 100 percent the right way. If they aren’t done that certain way, anxiety can overtake him, and the anxiety can develop into panic, anger, rage, and irrationality.
We had epic fights during those early months. At times, it felt like we were enemies, not a married couple navigating life together. Rick was and is so determined to be a good father, and he has not yet failed in that endeavor, but his intensity made him hard to live with at times. I’m sure that living with me wasn’t a picnic either.
Not surprisingly, Rick’s PTSD from childhood was on high alert. But I had to keep reminding him, “This baby is going to have everything you never did. This boy is going to have two parents who love him to pieces. This boy will have every opportunity and dozens of extended family members loving and supporting him every step of his life.”
The contrast of Rick’s childhood and Jacob’s childhood could not be more stark. And it’s in these moments that we found ourselves wondering once again how any man could leave his child. We would look at Jacob and not be able to imagine how a parent could walk away and not look back. But we knew now that Rick’s father did this to at least four children. We couldn’t fathom such a thing.
At any rate, we were able to move past our dark period, but not without a lot of prayer and reliance on God. It’s in those moments when you feel completely out of control that you can do nothing but rest in His promises. There was no physical action I could take to lessen the emotional turmoil in our home at that time. I just had to do my best and then trust.
There was even a moment when we were moving from our apartment to our new house that Rick said Jacob and I should just go ahead and move and he’d stay in the apartment. He sometimes still felt that everything was doomed, that our relationship was bound to end like all the others. I assured him that wasn’t what I wanted and we had to get through this.
That was the hardest time in my life, if I’m being honest. I couldn’t escape, but I felt helpless and trapped, scared and unsure how to “fix” our relationship and parenting differences.
I urged Rick to see his therapist and psychiatrist and get help for how overwhelmed he felt. He was becoming severely depressed again, unable to sleep or cope with daily life in a healthy way. While he did now have his relationship with God to rely on, faith doesn’t necessarily make the hardship of mental anguish any easier.
Jenny even called me one morning, asking if Rick was okay, because the last time we’d hung out with her, he had seemed like a zombie. I hadn’t wanted to confide our marriage problems to her, but I broke down in tears the moment she asked and told her what was going on.
I asked her to pray for him to get out of this mental fog and depression and that we could have some light and life back in our home and our marriage. She promised to pray, and she and other family members sent him encouraging texts and phone calls during the next few weeks.
Rick agreed to go to the psychiatrist and get his meds looked at. They began changing the prescriptions and dosage to find something that would solve this clear imbalance that was invading our lives. At the same time, Jacob started sleeping mostly through the night, and we were both able to get more sleep.
After we moved into our new house, became settled, got used to life as parents, and started to know Jacob’s personality a little better, we started to get along again. The change in medicine began to work, sleep began to come, and life began to feel the way it should. I was relieved and so incredibly thankful that we had come over this hump.
It didn’t happen without a lot of tears and even more prayers. You see, we know we are beating the odds, and our family does move with God. He is in our home, on our walls, at our meals—and Satan doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that we’re happy. He doesn’t like that Rick is healing. He doesn’t like that we keep going back to God when things get tough. But we do. We recognize what’s happening now, and we both believe God led us to this place together.
Sin will never stop trying to destroy us or our marriage. But honestly, we stand on solid ground. Our relationship is not built on the strength of the other person. Our safety net is not one we built ourselves. It’s a net built by God—it is God. So if the other person is failing us, we don’t have to be completely crushed. We are not each other’s all in all—and that is incredibly important in building a marriage that will last through the really, really hard moments—or months, or years.
Leaving Cloud 9 Page 21
