Fetter

     

Seven years deep in infertility. That’s where I was when I decided I would attend the temple weekly until I got my baby. The temple was a mere eight minutes away, I had the time, and it was what all those barren women of the Old Testament did. I just knew without question it was what I should do.

I took a picture of the temple every week as I drove away. One crisp, hard temple against the looming, organic backdrop of Mount Timpanogos. A photo collage proved the quick passage of time. Timp morphed green to red to brown to white to green again like a giant chameleon. One year down. No baby.

I kept going. FNDN babysat RE weekly during summer vacation so I could attend. It was my birthday gift from her complete with a laminated 10-punch card. That winter there was a massive snowstorm the night of December 30. It was the last night the temple was open for the year and nearly closing time. I looked outside at the unplowed roads, looked back at my wussy Honda, and said a prayer. I told Heavenly Father that I didn’t want to lose my goal over snow so to please help me get up Temple Hill without getting stuck or wrecking. As I approached Shelley Elementary a plow turned in front of me and cleared the entire route to the temple. It was a good year. No baby.

A third year came and went. The day I lost my baby I went to Draper because Timp was closed for cleaning. Smaller, slower Draper with its natural light and marbled stone. I sat in that light dressed in white with a stone face as a secret mess of reality bled out of me. I lost what I wanted most in silence and stared at the Minerva Teichert painting of Mary and Martha on the wall. I heard Jesus tell me, too, ONLY ONE THING IS NEEDFUL and the thing wasn’t a baby; it was Him. I will never forget the long arms of peace that wrapped around me in Draper. I drove home without I-15 and my new path introduced me to Suncrest and Corner Canyon. I felt something the minute I drove past it…without a baby.

Year four. I had learned to anticipate the week the honey locusts burned brightest yellow. I stared at them until I had my fill because the flash never lasted seven more days; faded glory would coat the parking lot the following week. After several weeks of dizzy worship from IVF meds I once again sat in front of Mary and Martha empty-bellied. Autonomy took over and robotically I showed up each week because it was needful. Needful was an understatement. I can scarcely remember the rest of that winter. It seemed like one never-ending inversion; no green, no sun, no agenda, no baby.

One week shy of five perfect years I gave birth to my son. I knew I was being induced so I went twice that last week to round it out right. Thirteen hours before heading to the hospital I waddled out of the archway with two-hundred and sixty visits behind me. Two races run, one finish line crossed, the other waiting for me in the morning. I looked up at the night sky and let the cover of night hide my emotions.

Thanks to the miscarriage I had an affinity for all things Draper and worshipped at the Draper temple several times a year. I started a little tradition of turning on “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” as I left the parking lot because the goosebumpy climax of the hymn (4 minutes and 28 seconds in) coincided with the road winding to a mind-boggling expanse. I never tired of it.

That song, that song. I can’t even talk about it. Suffice to say it is the prayer of a desperate, yearning soul torn open from the opposing forces of consecrating and quitting. That song with that drive was a temporary emotional patch I applied week after week. Here’s my (broken) heart, Lord, take and seal it. I choose you. Will I ache forever? I choose you. If this never ends…I still choose you.

There is absolute aid in the temple. All those years I focused on my unanswered prayer by checkmarking the calendar and searching for strength. I expected Popeye speedy spinach power but that is not how it came. Link by little link (or “almost perceptibly” as Elder Bednar would say) is how I was FETTERED CHAINED WELDED to my Savior.

Some of my photos of the Mount Timpanogos Temple. Regarding that Draper view Greg and I each loved instantly: we bought a piece of it in the spring. Someday when we move I will remain eight minutes from a temple. And if you don't have the song you need it. The album looks like this and the song is on iTunes.