Last week did not go the way we planned.
This is not what we hoped for or wanted.
This is what infertility looks like.
In November 2015, after a year of diagnostics and testing, Caleb and I began our first round of infertility treatments. I became pregnant on my first cycle, only to receive the news on the same day that I was pregnant but that I was also losing the pregnancy. Pregnant on Black Friday. Pregnancy gone by Cyber Monday.
Fast forward a year later and we are in the same position, with this God-given desire, and yet no children. After our first treatment, we did two more at the same office. Nothing. We mourned because we were told that your chances of the treatment working after three rounds go down dramatically. I had to take an emotional and physical break. Instead, I focused on what I could do myself. In the spring I started sessions with a naturopath. More tests. We came up with a plan for diet and supplements to address the results of the tests. Still nothing. We decided to seek a second opinion from another infertility office. More tests. I started going to a functional doctor to address my thyroid imbalance and anything else we might be missing. My infertility doctor came up with a plan to try two more rounds of treatment. She said our chances still looked good. I was hopeful and upbeat. I thought, this would be it, that there was just something going on last time that had now been resolved. Both cycles have come and gone, and yet nothing. The answer was still a no.
The ending of this last cycle was the worst one so far for us. Perhaps because it was our fifth round. Or perhaps because we understood the significance, dawning on us as Caleb held me as we wept over the harsh, physical reminder that we would once again not be expecting.
Long-term suffering is no joke. In Psalm 13, David cries out for deliverance from his suffering. “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.”
I’m tired. I’m angry. I don’t understand why God would keep having us pursue all of these avenues if it was still going to be a no. I’ve lost my hope. I no longer think, maybe next month. Just try one more thing. The long afflictions and years of disappointment have worn me down. To everyone else, it’s just another failed treatment. To us, it’s devastating. I want to be a mother. Caleb wants to be a father. In The Bible and the Pain of Infertility, Kimberly Monroe describes this realization of unfulfilled desire: “Grief. No funeral. No burial. No flowers. No cards. Yet there is a death: the death of hopes of the wonder of a child emerging from your love.”
I will never be a woman that gets pregnant by accident. I will never be a person that wakes up one day and realizes I should have started my period days ago. I will never know the joy of using a home pregnancy test and getting a positive result, without a dreaded two-week wait and injections, medications, and an onslaught of ultrasounds and bloodwork coming before it.
I’ve always wondered, if it came down to it, how does one “move on” from having their own children? People do it, and you think how wonderful and selfless it is. But you never think it will have to be you.
“Grief. No funeral. No burial. No flowers. No cards. Yet there is a death: the death of hopes of the wonder of a child emerging from your love.“
You see, I lied. I’ve lied while proudly wearing my necklace that says “And if not, He is still good.” I’m a phony. A sham. Because I do not feel that He is good. I feel betrayed, forgotten. I know that He is good. But there’s a difference. Knowing is better than feeling. But I don’t feel that He is good. God doesn’t make mistakes, He doesn’t forget. His character makes it impossible for Him to do so. I know this.
It feels like a lie because, when I first began writing about infertility, there was a part of me that said I would be one of those people that suffered, certainly, but after I had “learned my lesson,” whatever that was, my desire would be granted. I would get my happy ending. I would hold my baby in my arms and think, this was all worth it. Our child would be a testimony to God’s faithfulness through this fiery trial.
But that hasn’t happened. We are still suffering. Why? “We are indeed very sparing of ourselves in trouble, and do soon begin to think that we are low and tried enough, and therefore would be delivered; but our wise Lord seeth that we need more.” George Hutcheson, 1657.
I remember asking Caleb not long ago if God could give us a new dream. He said yes, of course He could. But He hasn’t done that yet.
Life will get better. It won’t always be like this. I say this not because I feel it, but because I know it. Time will begin to heal the wounds, whether we have children or not. But that’s the future looking into the past. And right now, in the present, I am heartbroken.
If you’ve experienced infertility or another type of long-term suffering, you understand the desire we have for deliverance. The type that makes you long for a reprieve, for justice, for Jesus to return. “Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.” Isaiah 30:18
Caleb and I pray for the suffering to end. For the ability to be genuinely joyful for our friends and family with children. To be able to attend baby showers again. To help and grieve with the many people we know going through similar circumstances. In A Prayer for the Weeping Heart, Christina Fox writes a prayer for those in lament. “Father, grant me gospel joy; help me to rejoice in Christ even as I grieve. Envelope me with the peace and comfort only you can provide. As the days move into months, may this burden lessen. As the months move to years, use me to encourage and bless someone else who must walk a similar path. Help me to point them to you as the God of all comfort.”
As someone who has been “in the waiting” for a long time, this prayer particularly spoke to me. The author did not mean it specifically for infertility, but she could not have described the cry of an aching heart better. As the months move to years…
Learning to trust in God’s mercy and depend on Him alone is not a 3, 4, 5, or even 10 year long lesson. I know it will be life-long. And trusting in God’s mercy leads to joy in His salvation. Romans 15:13 says “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”
In verses 5 and 6, Psalm 13 takes a dramatic turn.
“But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.”
Mark Kelly writes about Psalm 13 and the process of praying through depression.“Time is a gift in this life because we understand it in terms of beginning and ending. We experience our depression in terms of time. We also understand the hope of a time yet to come. If this life is “but a vapor,” how long then is our suffering?”
“Repose,” a prayer from the Valley of Vision.
Heavenly Father,
My faith is in thee,
My expectation is from thee,
My love goes out toward thee,
I believe thee,
accept thy Word,
acquiesce in thy will,
rely on thy promises,
trust thy providence.
I bless thee that the court of conscience
proves me to be thine.
I do not need signs and wonders to believe,
for thy Word is sure truth.
I have cast my anchor in the port of peace,
knowing that present and future
are in nail-pierced hands.
Thou art so good, wise, just holy,
that no mistake is possible to thee.
Thou art fountain and source of all law;
what thou commandest is mine to obey.
I yield to thy sovereignty all that I am and have;
do thou with me as thou wilt.
Thou hast given me silence in my heart
in place of murmurings and complaints.
Keep my wishes from growing into willings,
my willings from becoming fault-finding
with thy providences,
and have mercy on me.
If I sin and am rebellious, help me to repent;
then take away my mourning and give me music;
remove my sackcloth and adorn me with beauty;
take away my sighs and fill my mouth with songs;
and when I am restored and rest in thee
give me summer weather in my heart.
Hello Jennifer – I also prayed, cried and longed for a baby; lots of miscarriages, a diagnosis that almost guaranteed I would never carry a baby to term — although miraculously I did. In 11 years, I managed to have two successful pregnancies – only by God’s hand. I learned quite a bit along the way – and this bit is most applicable to your situation I think: I came to realize that the babies I had were very specifically planned — that egg meeting that seed at that single moment to produce those two people. That was God’s plan so it just had to take as long as it was going to take. Secondly, when you yearn, long, crave to conceive, you want it ALL – the entire maternity experience; and it is an amazing event – but once you have your baby in your arms, all that fades and the baby is everything. What I am saying is that once you have a baby of your own you realize that the baby is 95% of what your heart longs for and being pregnant is about 5%. How that baby comes to be in your arms is less important than it might appear to be when you are struggling with the initial fertility issues. Try to shift your focus to praying for the baby that God has in store for you — wherever and however that child might come to you. God creates families in three ways: birth, adoption, step-children. Open your heart to the baby that God has for you and Caleb, try to focus your prayers on “baby” rather than “pregnancy”. I know that it is so hard – there are days when the sorrow just sweeps over you, catches you off guard and you just want to lay down and give up – you want to know why God gave you this desire, this female body that is supposed to be built for reproduction, and yet your arms are empty. I know Kathy, your-mother-in law – and if you would like to email me, I will tell you the story of the baby prayer list from the days before Ethan was born. dacstevenson@aol.com
There was so much of this that I found myself agreeing with as I read. This journey is so hard. Psalm 13 is a scripture I have clung to so many times. I have always wondered how David can go so quickly from verse 4 where the entire world is falling apart, to verse 5 where he trusts. It seems like a hard transition.
The thing is, verse 1-4 reminds me that no matter how angry we are – God is big enough. He wants us to tell him we are disappointed, angry and ready to quit. Imagine if you never told your husband or best friend that you were mad at them. There would never be any time for intimacy grow. It’s hard to tell someone you are disappointed in them… especially God… but I promise.. He is big enough to handle your disappointment. The amazing thing about God is that when you scream at him, he doesn’t scream back. He wraps his arms around us and invites us to find rest on his lap from the storm.
Also, I love that the bible doesn’t tell us how long it took David to find verse 5. I don’t know about you, but I think it makes sense that it took David a few days (or maybe a few months). It’s ok for it to take some time before you can say “I trust you”.
Finally, please never forget you aren’t alone. Sending you a huge virtual hug. I know how hard it is to put this all out there.
Thanks for sharing your heart and your journey! We are all in this together! ❤
That prayer you posted is just beautiful…and so spot-on in how we can feel while going through the rollercoaster of infertility.
“Keep my wishes from growing into willings,
my willings from becoming fault-finding
with thy providences,
and have mercy on me.”
This is probably the most convicting part of that prayer…too often I am finding myself asking God why. Why her and not me? Why hasn’t it happened yet? Why has it been yet another month with a negative test?
But, God’s will is perfect…His timing is perfect. I just have to keep praying and keep my eyes on Him…it’s the only way to survive. Praying for both of us!
I could relate with so many of these emotions. I know the journey is beyond tough, and something that most people in the world will never be able to relate to. Your willingness to share your story, your grief, and your faith is significant, thank you for being willing to do that.
Thank you for being so open and vulnerable and brave, to describe the honest feelings of your heart that so many of us can relate to. Love, hugs, and prayers for you.
I love the prayer by Christina Fox; so beautiful! Going to write that one down.