When I was younger, one of my favorite games to play went something like this: I was at home minding my own business, there was a knock at my door, and I answered the door and found a baby in a basket on the porch with a note that told me to take care of the baby forever. So I did. I loved the feeling that someone else trusted me to care for their child.
As a young married person, I have had probably 30 dreams in total wherein someone around me has a baby and that person is unable to care for the baby for whatever reason. So the baby is given to me to care for forever and raise as my own child.
When Dave and I decided to try to get pregnant, my prayer was always that God would give me peace through the whole thing. I don’t remember ever once in the first year or so praying that I would get pregnant soon. It was always asking for peace with God’s timing or comfort in the sadness. I didn’t plan to pray that way; I just realized a few months ago that I had been praying that way.
When we told people we were starting to try to get pregnant, I always warned, “this could take a while, so don’t go crazy just yet” or “who knows what will happen or how long it will take.”
Maybe my own intense desires for children clouded my sight for the past 24 years, but I’m beginning to see that God has been preparing me slowly and surely for a struggle with infertility.
I’m not happy with this struggle. As a girl who grew up in church, a young woman figuring out her own faith and the way faith works in general, it’s hard for me to say that I’m not happy with where God has placed me. There are days that I’m angry and sad, disappointed with myself, frustrated in my place in life, days that I’m searing with jealousy, days that I want to sleep it off and numb myself to ‘infertile living.’ There are days where I am lonely for a child in the very pit of me and it’s too much to ignore. I absolutely have the desire to carry a child, to give birth, to experience pregnancy, and it hurts me to imagine my life without that experience. Maybe it will happen for me someday. Maybe it won’t.
But there are days where I understand a small piece of God’s perfect plan. Days I can look at the past and think, “even if I don’t understand it, I was made for this.” There are days where I know that my timing wasn’t great, and I am thankful I didn’t get pregnant right away. I have great joy for friends who are pregnant. I have the desire to live my life to show God’s glory, no matter what that means for me and my journey to parenthood. I can honestly say that if this is how God wants to use me, I can handle infertility. Some days it is hard. Very very hard. Some days it isn’t.
I definitely don’t want sympathy for writing this post; I just want to be completely honest with my life. It’s not all perfect, it doesn’t all make sense. Infertility is something that’s not really talked about very much. So if there are even two people out there who read my blog and are going through the same thing, I want them to know I’m here. I get it. I’m sorry for what you’re dealing with, friend. I’m praying for you and I wish so very much that you didn’t have to go through this. As you’re going though, know you’re not alone. There are so many women thrown into this same crappy battle. If you’re in the Nashville area and you’re struggling with infertility and you would like someone to talk to, email me. We can get together for coffee. I will just sit and listen, if that’s what you need. I will cry with you, if that’s what you need. I’ll pray with you and try to encourage you as best I can, if that’s what you need. I have good days and I have bad days, just like you do. So let’s do this together.