Aly's Fight

by Aly Taylor

  CHAPTER 9

  OUR FAMILY GROWS AGAIN

  —JOSH—

  Genevieve Rose Taylor was an absolute dream baby. Watching her sleep in her crib, seeing her little tummy rise and fall with each breath, it was as if Aly’s cancer started to make sense for the first time. As hard as it was for us to admit or even acknowledge that cancer had taken Aly’s fertility, had it not, we may not have had our Genevieve—and we simply cannot fathom life with her. So, for that, cancer… thank you for taking my wife’s fertility.

  Bringing Genevieve home after the adoption paperwork was signed, continuing to bond with her, and being her dad every day afterward was surreal and incredible. It still is. Looking back on the drama that surrounded those stressful days after her birth makes Aly and me even more thankful for her than if we’d had a child naturally and easily. I had seen God heal my wife, but that Monday morning in the hospital—when all hope was lost—was the first time I’d ever seen an unmistakable, real-time, instant miracle. God showed up in such an undeniable way, putting His stamp of approval on this adoption and making it clear to everyone involved that He had chosen us to be Genevieve’s parents. It was a crazy situation—one we never expected but will never forget.

  Afterward, as we were talking about everything that led to our having Genevieve, Aly remarked, “Our life should be a Lifetime movie!” We didn’t realize at the time that television would indeed become a big part of our life… but that’s a story for another chapter. For now, we were just focusing on getting used to life with our Genevieve.

  POST-ADOPTION SYNDROME

  Once we joined the ranks of parenthood, we got hit with the same question that people seem to ask every new mom and dad: “Do you guys want more children?” Why is this the first thing people ask you when you have a new baby? We always answered the same way, telling them that we wanted what God wanted for us—but we were perfectly content with one. That was the truth, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if Aly could emotionally handle the challenges that would come with another adoption. This had been such a long, hard process full of the highest highs and lowest lows we could have imagined.

  I think Aly’s reaction to the “more kids” question was the same as any brand-new mom. If you ask a woman who’s just given birth if she wants more kids, she’ll probably tell you no. Or never. Or she might just say, “Are you crazy? Get away from me! Don’t make me hurt you!” Seriously, whether it’s an adoption or a traditional birth, that is such the wrong time to ask a mom if she wants more children!

  —ALY—

  I’d like to say Josh is exaggerating, but he’s probably underselling what I felt during those first few months as a mom. As a therapist, I knew all the telltale signs of postpartum depression (PPD), and I know it can be a serious, draining, and painful experience for women. I’m not sure I’d go as far as to say I was in a full-blown PPD, but I was close. We had been through so much. We had moved our lives hundreds of miles away from home, created a lifelong relationship with Genevieve’s birth family, almost lost her, experienced a miracle, and were now back home with a newborn as first-time parents. It was exhausting. I get why people ask about having more kids because there’s such baby fever when you’re around a newborn, but I wasn’t in any kind of emotional place to even consider another adoption yet. I was going through what I started calling post-adoption syndrome.

  Our journey connected us with countless other families who have adopted, and they all echoed what I was feeling. The worry and exhaustion that parents who adopt feel are identical to the stressors biological parents feel. Then, on top of that, there is a whole new set of issues that are unique in adoption scenarios. The biggest is the looming threat of adoption failure, which I can only compare to a miscarriage.

  Please don’t think I’m being insensitive to those who have walked through a miscarriage; my heart breaks for those families. While I haven’t gone through the pain of having a miscarriage, I do know firsthand the pain of losing a child I’d already grown attached to. When Karen told us she was keeping Genevieve, it was as though we’d lost her forever. Then when God intervened, I felt like my child had come back to life. It sounds crazy, but that’s the only way I can describe the ridiculous range of emotions I experienced. We were so blessed by our outcome, but I know many families who have experienced multiple adoption failures, and every one of them is devastating to a family expecting to bring a child home. I just didn’t think I could risk going through that again.

  Josh and I talked a lot about the state of our family during this time, and we ultimately agreed that having children—however God choses to give them—is not about us as parents. It’s about the child, and it’s about raising a boy or girl into a man or woman of God. I trusted God to work in and through me in a mighty way, but I was also aware of my capacity. Christian parents have an awesome responsibility to raise children to be disciples of Jesus Christ, and it’s hard to admit, but I wasn’t sure if I could do this with more than one child.

  So, let’s see. I was a cancer survivor who had beaten a life-threatening diagnosis, a new mom who had just been through an almost-failed adoption, and a woman in her twenties who had been told she was premenopausal and unable to have a child naturally without an egg donation. Mix that with the love I felt for my new baby girl, the stress I was under with my new parental responsibilities, and the sleepless nights every new parent goes through, and what do you get? You get a lady who clung to sanity only by screaming, “That’s enough! Whatever else may or may not happen in the future, I choose to be content with the life God’s given me!”

  I didn’t need any more children. I didn’t want any more drama. All I wanted was a nice, quiet, boring, normal life with my husband and daughter. Josh and I finally felt like life was going to slow down a little bit, and we were looking forward to hunkering down with our little family and enjoying raising this wonderful little girl.

  SWEET, SWEET SURRENDER

  When Genevieve was about nine months old, I went to eat with a friend who was experiencing infertility and considering adoption. This has become part of my ministry life; it is a joy to pray with others who are wanting a family, considering adoption, or continuing to try to have a child naturally. This friend had a strong desire to conceive a child and was asking the question many potential moms ask: Could she truly love a child she adopted as much as a baby she carried for nine months?

  I could only answer with the experience I had been through. I told her I had no desire to become pregnant now. I confessed that, at one time in my life, the need to get pregnant had become an all-consuming idol to me. But during and after Genevieve’s adoption, that desire was gone. Not that it wouldn’t be amazing to experience, and if God allowed it, we would be ecstatic. But we loved Genevieve so much; there’s no way we ever could have loved her more if I had given birth to her myself. I explained that once your baby is in your arms, the love you feel isn’t even in question. It’s an experience, a blessing you can’t understand until you walk through it. You just have to trust someone who’s been there.

  I could see the stress and skepticism in her face. It was hard not to shake her and say, “DO IT! It will be the best decision of your life! Why would you not want to adopt?” But then I put myself in her shoes and remembered having those same questions and thoughts just months before we had Genevieve. I realized I was looking into my own face as I looked at this woman. I knew God had changed my heart’s desire through conversations with other mothers and families who had adopted, and now God had given me the chance to speak those same words of hope to this sweet, young friend.

  Surrender is a beautiful thing. I had learned to surrender to God’s plan for my family. My surrender didn’t come as quickly as I’m sure God would have liked, but it did happen. Now it was up to my friend to surrender as well. When she left that day, I could tell she was still struggling. I thought, If she only knew. One day she might.

  THE BIGGEST SURPRISE OF OUR LIFE

  Despite our total surrender a
nd peace with the life God had given us with Genevieve, other people kept coming up to us and saying they’d never stopped praying for us to conceive. I always wanted to respond, “You can stop praying now. We have our little girl, and we trust God to do whatever He wants with our future.” I never actually said that, but I felt it. God had given us so much through my healing and our adoption. I was at a place in my life when I truly didn’t feel the need to ask for more. I stopped praying to conceive once we had Genevieve, and I felt strongly that, if we did choose to grow our family later, it would be through adoption. That seemed like such a high honor to me by then. I had a new attitude about adoption, and I understood what the Bible means when it says we are children who have been adopted by our heavenly Father. I knew how much I loved Genevieve and got a glimpse of how much God must love me. Adoption was it for us.

  That didn’t stop others, though—especially my father-in-law, Terry. It seemed like any time we talked about fertility, he would say, “I know you’ll get pregnant!” I can’t tell you how many times he would talk about it or my mother-in-law, Renea, would say, “You know, Terry still prays and believes you’ll get pregnant!” I would laugh and think to myself, Naïve Mr. Terry. We were told it’s impossible, and we have our miracle Genevieve. He really can stop praying and saying that! But his faith never wavered, even after I stopped praying about it myself.

  Just after Thanksgiving 2015, when Genevieve was nine months old, I started feeling sick. I’d had a flare-up of cellulitis in my arm, which is basically a painful skin infection. My arm swelled up like Popeye and turned bright red while my doctor tried to get it under control. This went on for about five days before the pain and irritation improved. The doctor warned me, though, that a side effect of cellulitis is flu-like symptoms. And man, did I get hit with flu-like symptoms! I felt terrible. I had no appetite, felt nauseous all the time, had weird body aches, and generally felt like garbage.

  Two weeks into these symptoms, I was trying to soldier on and force myself to get better. I got up early one morning to exercise before work, but I felt especially sick and tired. I worked out anyway, and while washing my hands during a mid-workout bathroom break, I noticed an old home pregnancy test leftover from our fertility treatment days. I bought them in bulk back then (because I obsessively checked pretty much every day), and I had one test left. No point wasting the last one, right? So, on a whim, I decided to take it. I peed on the strip, set it aside on its package, and went back to finish my workout. I completely forgot about it.

  After my workout, I showered and started getting ready for work. As I walked through the bathroom toward the closet, I saw the test sitting where I’d left it. I laughed at myself for taking the test. Hadn’t we been through enough of this? How many times did I need to see a negative pregnancy test? Besides, the doctors were very clear that nothing short of an egg donor would put a baby inside of me. I walked over to the test to throw it away, but then I saw something I’d never seen before: two lines. I stopped dead in my tracks, thinking, Wait… what? That can’t be right, can it? I mean, two lines would mean that I’m… I’m…

  I ran over to the trash and dug out the package to double check the instructions. There, plain as day, the package confirmed it: two lines means pregnant. This is not happening, I thought. How can this be happening? I was totally freaking out in the bathroom while Josh slept on the other side of the door. I didn’t want to wake him up and tell him all this because I wasn’t sure yet if I really believed it myself. Instead, I decided to let him sleep and do a little investigation before I said anything. However, just in case this turned out to be real, I wanted to do something special. So I decided to make a little video of myself in our living room.

  The video is hilarious. I was such a mess. I wanted so badly to be excited, but I was confused and scared. I couldn’t really believe this was happening, but it was still pretty amazing to see two lines for the first time in my life. After I finished the quick video, I texted my OB-GYN, who was also a good friend, and sent her a picture of the little pregnancy test. She told me to take some deep breaths and come in that morning for a blood test.

  I walked into work that day and my coworker Katina came into my office. I think God sent her to me because she had adopted her first child and had two biological children after that. I had to spill my news through tears. She cried with me and supported me, and all I could think about was how scared I was and how this would affect my Genevieve. Plus, I was so confused. I had felt certain that if God were to grow our family again, it would be through adoption. And yet every part of me that once wanted to experience pregnancy came screaming back to life in an instant. I was thrilled to potentially be carrying a baby, but I was also terrified about getting too excited about what could still be a big mistake.

  As my blood was taken that morning, I realized my heart had already connected to what that little pregnancy test said was growing in my body. But I tried not to let my mind go completely there yet. Were my symptoms just from my arm infection, or were they really symptoms of pregnancy? Had I ignored my own body giving me signals? I got more nervous and more excited with every thought.

  Later that afternoon I received a text message from my doctor confirming the news the cheap pregnancy test had already told me: I was pregnant! That news came with a caution, however. Knowing my history, she suggested we keep it quiet until I could come in for an ultrasound. And I couldn’t stop thinking about what the fertility doctor told us earlier about the high likelihood of miscarriage if I ever did manage to get pregnant. Yes, there were a lot of questions and a million risks. For right now, though, I was pregnant. I, Aly Taylor, breast cancer survivor and so-called barren woman, was pregnant.

  —JOSH—

  I’ll never forget coming home from work on December 2, 2015. Aly was giddy. I’d seen that look on her face before; it’s how she looks when she’s excited about giving me a big surprise. We had just decorated the house for Christmas—Genevieve’s first Christmas, no less—and Aly wanted me to sit on the couch so she could give me an early Christmas present. This was music to my ears. I love gifts, and surprises are the best. Aly handed me an envelope, and I had no idea what her gift might be. A new truck? A four-wheeler? Whatever it was, I figured she had written the big reveal into a corny poem I was supposed to read. I ripped open the envelope, knowing my wife was about to blow my mind with something awesome. I had no way of knowing just how awesome the surprise would be.

  Instead of an original Aly Taylor love poem, I saw a Scripture passage written on the card. I knew this verse. It was the scripture that had been prayed over Aly many times, including at the send-off party we had before our first trip to Houston. It was Psalm 128 (NLT):

  How joyful are those who fear the LORD—

  all who follow his ways!

  You will enjoy the fruit of your labor.

  How joyful and prosperous you will be!

  Your wife will be like a fruitful grapevine,

  flourishing within your home.

  Your children will be like vigorous young olive trees

  as they sit around your table.

  That is the LORD’s blessing

  for those who fear him.

  May the LORD continually bless you from Zion.

  May you see Jerusalem prosper as long as you live.

  May you live to enjoy your grandchildren.

  May Israel have peace!

  As I read that passage again—now with nine-month-old Genevieve in my amazing, cancer-free, completely healed wife’s arms babbling and smiling—I felt a dam break in my mind. I was immediately flooded with all the memories of the past few years.

  Throughout Aly’s cancer, we determined to do just what this passage says: fear the Lord. We knew we had labored through pain and trusted God to protect Aly and give me wisdom and strength. I spent so many days and nights praying for my wife to be like a fruitful grapevine and for her to flourish in every way. We prayed that children would be like vigorous young olive trees aro
und our table. We prayed for His blessings and that we would prosper as a family. We prayed for long lives and that we would live to enjoy our grandchildren.

  Psalm 128 was important during Aly’s cancer fight, but it was downright critical when we were told Aly could not have children. We prayed and prayed that God would intervene as we recited the words of the psalm over Aly. Then, when we made the decision to adopt, I struggled with whether adoption meant we had given up on God answering our prayer. It took a while for me to realize that adoption wasn’t a sign that we had given up our faith; instead, it was a living symbol that we were going to follow God’s lead on how He had chosen to grow our family. All these thoughts, prayers, and emotions came racing back front and center as I sat there reading this psalm again. But I couldn’t for the life of me understand what Aly was trying to tell me.

  I remember thinking for a half second, Is she pregnant? before forcing the thought out of my head. It wasn’t possible, so I didn’t even want to go there. The only other thing I could think of was that Aly had reached out to someone about adopting another baby. But that didn’t make sense either, because there was no way she’d do that without talking to me. I was clueless. Finally, after I finished reading the passage and had a few moments to think through what was happening, Aly handed me another envelope. This one had a note with two words written at the top. It was two words I never thought I’d hear from my wife: I’m pregnant! Just to drive the point home, the only other words on the card were, I’m not kidding!

  I lost it. Totally and completely. I was a sobbing pile of mush on our sofa beneath the glow of our Christmas lights. I could not wrap my head around what was happening or why it was happening now; I had a million questions. The only question I didn’t ask was how it was happening. I knew how. The only thing I really knew for sure in that moment was that God had done it. He can and does do more than we could ever ask, hope, or imagine.