One of the things that surprised me after becoming a mother was that I thought that all of the pain and longing that I experienced during our wait and during our struggle with infertility would vanish overnight. And I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that’s not the case.
Don’t get me wrong, a lot of pain was smoothed over once I crossed that invisible line between woman and mother.
But sometimes it takes me by a little bit of a shock.
It’s little things. Like when I’m on what I think is a message board for moms about parenting and the questions revolve around birth or conception.
It’s little moments when I see women who have children the same age as Harry and they’re expecting their next baby and that little green monster comes back up and I think “Why is it so hard for us? Why is this disease so unfair?”
And I think again and again of the tornado. It does not seek you out maliciously or purposefully. It strikes at random. And you don’t know what that’s like and you can never know what it’s like until the tornado comes for you.
There are things that have softened in me though. I used to not understand why women who suffered from secondary infertility couldn’t at least satsified with the child that they did have.
But I know now when you have a longing in you for children—whether it’s for your first child or your third child or your fifth child—when that longing is placed in you, nothing can placate it.
There is no fix for it. No cure for it. Your other children’s purpose in your life or your love for them is not in any way reflected in that longing.
You can still long for children even when you have them.
That is something i only learned on this side of that line.
And as we start to plan for extending our family, a lot of the pains I had to go through before Harry came home, I’m having to address again. Things like jealously. And bitterness. Things that if I don’t keep them in check, I’ll allow to grow in me.
And the thing about jealously and bitterness is they’ll choke the joy right out of your life. I don’t ever want the joy that I feel every day over being Harry’s mom to be choked out by bitterness over what I didn’t get to experience.
I’ll never know first hand the miracle of birth. For someone like me who watches home birth videos for fun; who is captivated and amazed by birth, it’s hard.
And when Harry was small those things were easier, but now that we are here again—getting ready to wait, getting ready to wonder when it will be our turn—it’s hard again.
The reprieve that I had in that first year of his life was lifted and it was lifted in almost what feels like a second.
When Harry came home I made myself a silent promise that I was not going to even think about or ponder or consider growing our family until he was a year old. Because I knew, from knowing myself for 34 years at that point, that I simply could not entertain those thoughts or I would miss it. I would miss the joy and the wonder of his first year. And I waited so long to be his mom that I wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
And there it was, mid-November, he was a year old and—zoom—all of it back. Suddenly. When were we going to have another baby? When was our family going to grow? What were we going to do?
And being infertile is life long. It’s always there. It’s always on my mind. I’m always thinking about it. But it’s in the same way that I am always aware that I’m female. I’m always aware of my height. Of my age. It’s just part of who I am. It’s not something that plagues me, it’s just something that I am. And I think that makes people uncomfortable sometimes. But you know, that’s okay.
The only thing that can comfort me—the only thing that can save me—is Jesus.
There is no cure for this other than Christ. He won’t suddenly make me fertile and He won’t suddenly give me more children just because I want them. But what He will do is He’ll fill the cracks in my heart. And He’ll fill the empty spaces in my life and He’ll fill the empty longing in my arms.
And if I trust Him to do those things— if I allow Him to do those things —He will do them. And not only will He do them, He will do them with great joy and with great joy that I’ve asked, because that’s what He wants to do for us. He wants to invade the cracks in our lives and fill them with His love, His comfort, His presence and His strength.
If you’re hurting and lonely, if your arms are heavy with emptiness, I have to promise you that if you will just call on Him, He will fill them. He will comfort you, and you will be able to stand in the middle of the tornado, winds swirling around you, and your feet will remain firmly planted on the ground.
faith, infertility, jesus
Perfectly said, and every word true. XO.
I know my situation isn’t exactly like yours, but I can relate somewhat. Although I’m happy with my husband and daughter, I still sometimes have regret that I didn’t marry and have children when I was in my twenties. I got married at 31 and my daughter was born when I was almost 33. I’m now 34 and considering having a second child. At my age, my parents had FIVE children. It’s strange–I’m happy where I am, but still kind of wistful that I missed out on what I thought was a better plan.
Infertility is ugly on so many levels, kids or no kids. Pregnancies or no pregnancies. Miscarriages or no miscarriages. It’s a betrayal of our bodies to do something that it’s just supposed to do. And that will always be unfair. And it will always suck. It hurts my heart that someone I love so much has to go through this. Maybe once we are through childbearing years it will get a little easier? Maybe? Or maybe it will always suck just as bad as the first diagnosis. But your faith is beautiful and wonderful thing. And I know you will be okay.
I love hearing your heart like this Johanna. And so many, myself included, can learn and grow from you sharing your thoughts and experiences. Just puts all things in perspective again and again. <3 ya!
Wow, so very beautifully said! Thank you for sharing your heart – a heart that clearly loves Jesus! Just listened to a wonderful sermon on ‘Contentment’ by Beau Hughes (The Village Church) on podcast and it is just brewing and brewing in my brain… SO good! Sounds like you have the perspective and the JOY that only He can provide
I’ve read you off and on for a couple of years now and you give me so much hope to see where we might be. After 6 miscarriages my husband and I started the adoption process. I am so joyful that I will get to be a mother, but, I’m having a really hard time because I know several unmarried women with unplanned pregnancies who only like to complain. It really hurts. Last night one of them posted on Facebook about how she NEVER wanted to be a mother, but now that she is 1/2 way through her pregnancy she is ok and even “a little bit” happy and excited. When I see that I have a hard time not getting upset and asking God “why”. Did/do you struggle with this? Any passages that give you comfort/reassurance? I guess I just want comfort that I’m not alone, and you have always seemed to be honest.
Thank you.
Courtney, I’m so sorry for your losses. There is no grief like it. It’s really hard to fight bitterness, and I am not always successful. (Maybe not even usually!) When we were in the midst of it, Psalm 73 was a passage I read a lot. The author talks about how he envied those who prospered — those whose bodies were strong and didn’t fail. Whose received the things the author wanted, who remained without, even though he saw them as undeserving. But then he says that when he sought the presence of God, he saw it for how it really is. That God is our strength and our portion and our prize, and how bitterness almost made him miss the awesomeness of God.
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%2073&version=NLT
Another one I meditated on a lot was (is) Romans 8:38. Nothing nothing nothing can separate us from the love of God. Nothing! Not miscarriage. Not infertility. Not childlessness. Nothing. Paul goes on to say that Christ went to the cross for us, would he not also intercede on our behalf as He sits at God’s right hand? That brought me great comfort — Jesus knows my heart’s desire. He is pleading with the Father on my behalf! Powerful.
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=romans%208:38&version=NLT
I hope these help. I’ll be praying for you.
I offer my own perspective for other infertile people preparing to adopt — I waited six years to be a parent, and the second I was, the burden was lifted forever. But I wish so badly I had never gone through infertility at all. I would never wish it on my worst enemy, and it cuts me to the bone to think of someone I love, like Johanna, going through it. What hurts me still is the bitterness it placed in my heart about my own body — the loss of control and the continued physical betrayal is what I still need to make peace with.
It took me YEARS to let go of the anger towards people who did not understand what I was going through, but I think the experience gave ME the gift of empathy and I’m grateful, at the very least, for that — and most, most grateful that I was allowed to become the parent of my daughter, who is someone I’m so glad to know.
Thank you for this heartfelt, honest, thoughtful post – and thanks to the commenters, as well, for sharing their own experiences. I confess that I am very ambivalent about faith and more specifically, organized religion, but sites like yours encourage me to be more curious and, I hope, open-minded.
I have had four miscarriages, and my husband and I are starting to explore adoption while still trying to conceive. I am almost scared to get pregnant again – to go through those weeks of anxiety and stress where you are not supposed to talk about it, so you keep your fears to yourself.
I feel really guilty, b/c I didn’t feel ready for children earlier (I was 31, he was 28, when we married, and we waited a few years). When we started trying, we were able to conceive but not carry to term, and I feel that it’s my fault for waiting so long (I think he would have been happier to start sooner).
At the same time, I’m also scared about adoption. International adoption is our likeliest bet, since there is a long waiting list for children in my home province here in Canada. I’m worried about bonding with a baby/young child; about how we will look as a family (I’m caucasian, my husband is Indian, and India is restricting adoption, so we are looking at a different ethnicity, etc). And I’m worried that having spent so many years in the world of “dual income no kids” has made me selfish and unable to handle the complete shift in priorities that a new baby/child entails.