I was overwhelmed with the response I received from my post, A Day in the Life. So many of you wrote, commented, Facebooked, or texted the feelings you had about it. Some of you are trying your hardest to understand because you’ve never experienced infertility. Some of you are in this boat, too. I recently told a friend who has struggled with secondary infertility for years that I was sad we were in the same club but thankful we weren’t alone.
And then I started thinking about it.
Maybe some of you feel alone.
The Lord has placed my family in such an amazing city. We have some awesome refrigerator friends. (What? Is that weird? Pretty sure it’s a thing.) You know…the friends that can come over, open up your fridge, and consume whatever their hearts desire. I usually tell people when they cross over into this type of friendship. It’s just a courtesy. They can also be called Friends We Don’t Clean For. If you’re part of this group, be blessed. There’s a pile of dishes in the sink and dirt on the floor. Come on in.
We are also part of an awesome church that has a love for this city, the body of Christ, and the nations of the world. I am inspired, encouraged, and challenged when I step in the door. God is good.
We also have a small group of friends who are experiencing exactly what we are experiencing. Like, exactly. Sometimes it’s creepy how close our stories are. One of my friends and I had our first babies and miscarriages months apart. Now we both are struggling in this area of infertility. And while I hate what I’m going through, I love that I can minister to her (and others) in a way that’s specific to their struggle.
But I’m not naive enough to think that everyone has these networks of people around them.
There are some out there who feel totally alone. Some whose husbands don’t feel the same weight of infertility they feel. Some whose families or friends are insensitive to their struggle.
While browsing a section of my blog statistics that shows me the keywords people use to find my blog, I saw that one sweet friend searched with these terms:
burdened by infertility
Break. My. Heart. I just pictured this sweet sister (sorry guys, my head automatically saw a woman), sitting behind her computer screen with tears in her eyes, typing up those letters. Yes friend. I know.
For those of you, please know these things.
Your struggle is real.
No matter what anyone says, it is a big deal. The emotions you have when that ridiculously expensive stick screams “Not Pregnant” at you for the thousandth time are real. You have every right to be sad, disappointed, angry, unsure, forgotten, broken. But don’t let things end there.
You’re not alone.
Sadly and happily, at the same time, there are those of us standing there in the bathroom with you as you read those words. Awkward, right? I know. We can’t help it. We’re like those friends that don’t understand personal space and choose to stand too close to you all the time. We’re in your business, if you let us. We’re rooting for you just like we’re rooting for us. Willing it. Praying it. Believing it.
Sweet friend. I can’t say to you, Yes. You will become pregnant. I can’t waive a magic ovulation stick or pregnancy test or sprinkle you with fertility dust. I can’t promise you these things. Believe me, I would if I could! (And I’d promise them to myself while I was at it.)
But as a Christian, I can promise you this. Jesus cares. Jesus heals.
He is my only hope.
I don’t place my hope in medicine, though I know the procedures can (and do) work. But sometimes they don’t.
I don’t place my hope in my husband, though he’s doing everything in his power to keep me
sane and presentable positive. But his struggle is a little different than mine.
I don’t place my hope in positive words from friends, though they are encouraging and helpful. But they can’t promise me a baby. (Though some well-meaning people have tried!)
I place my hope in Jesus Christ. Not because He’s promised me another child because, to be honest, I haven’t heard that from Him. I have no idea if God’s will is that I become a mom to a second biological child or a first adopted child.
His promise is that He will give me rest. Amen and amen. I. Need. Rest. My sweet husband can probably attest to this! 🙂
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Jesus, Matthew 11:28-30
His promise is that He comforts the brokenhearted.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
Have you ever been crushed in spirit? Sheesh. Once a month, right?
His promise is that He is enough.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9
Ok. This one’s hard. Let’s be honest. I’m a minister’s wife, and I will just tell you that sometimes I don’t feel that He’s enough. I want a second baby. I want to have the family picture that’s in my head. I want to be pregnant.
But these are my feelings. And if Christians and non-Christians can agree about anything, it’s that feelings can’t really be trusted. Have you ever made a decision in a moment of high emotion that you wish you could take back? 80s hair, anyone? It felt good at the time, right? Pictures prove otherwise.
If the Bible is truth, which I believe it is, then He says His grace IS sufficient–not might be, not could be if I pray right or do the right thing. It IS sufficient.
So in those moments when I don’t feel that way, I choose to remember He said it is, and that helps me believe it.