Feeling Forgotten- Infertility Hurts

Infertility hurts.

I could probably just end this post right there and it would be the truest thing I ever wrote, but I guess some explanation is in order.  I was thinking through these infertility thoughts this last week as I taped a radio interview on fertility and surrender.  If there’s one thing being unable to get pregnant, then being unable to stay pregnant, then being unable to avoid pregnancy has taught me it’s that fertility isn’t something I can control.  As my baby is outgrowing his little 12 month outfits and becoming less of a baby and more of a toddler I’m wondering what God will do with this next phase of our lives.  Josh asked if he could have four more brothers.  I told him the phone could ring at any moment and say there’s another child for us.  We’re leaving the door open and the opportunities up to God.  While maybe it looks like we’ve got our hands full with four kids (and there’s a lot of truth to that), the fact that I can’t control my fertility is painful.

Before the birth of our biological baby we experienced what’s called “primary infertility”.  It just means we were unable to get pregnant at all.  Now we experience “secondary infertility”.  We’ve been pregnant, we’ve given birth and now we’re back to being infertile.  I prefer to think of us as “intermittently fertile” since we’ve been pregnant three times, but with just one live birth.  I remember in the first days or our infertility diagnosis just being thankful that this was primary and not secondary since word on the infertility street is secondary is harder emotionally.  It’s tough when you know exactly what you’re missing.  You know the joy of pregnancy and the miracle of childbirth, the ease of incorporating a biological child.  You may be reticent to pursue adoption if you just aren’t sure the door is closed for another biological child or you’re concerned you couldn’t love an adopted child the way you love your first baby.

So here I am- packing away tiny things, giving away maternity clothes and nursing supplies and feeling the ache in spite of the ridiculous blessings tugging on my pants and demanding snacks.  I am incredibly thankful for my kids and the beautiful way each of them came into my life.  I am not saying I need more kids to be happy, I’m just saying the loss of control is hard.  Surrender is hard.  Infertility hurts.

In Christian circles women will often reference Hannah as an example of a woman who handled infertility with grace.  I love Hannah’s story and I don’t know if I could count how many times I’ve read it.  I’ve read it enough times to have noticed an interesting word choice (I should probably have hunted down what the Hebrew actually means, but I haven’t.  Anybody who knows feel free to pass it along.).  In 1 Samuel 1:19 it says, “Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the LORD and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah lay with Hannah his wife, and the LORD remembered her.”  Remembered her?  That quote comes from the NIV but the phrase “remembered her” is also in the ESV, NASB and KJV.  This is how the Bible tells us she went from barrenness to pregnancy- she was remembered by God.

I want to tell you what infertility feels like.  It feels like being forgotten.

When you have spent so much time praying and crying out to God and the response you hear is silence, it’s hard to frame that in your mind as anything other than the forgetfulness of God.  When you hear about a friend getting pregnant with a child she wishes they hadn’t conceived because of what a burden it will be, you feel that God has forgotten you and your struggle while continuing to hand out children to those he remembers.  God even “remembers” teenagers and rape victims in this way while He’s busy forgetting you.  I never wanted to accuse God of being “unfair” but forgetful?  I had a hard time seeing another view when Hannah’s story seemed to confirm what felt obvious to me.

I can tell you the many happy endings of my story- amazing adopted kids, a surprise miracle pregnancy- but right now I just want to validate that this is a hard process.  When you’re in the midst of grieving your dreams of an uncomplicated conception process, it isn’t always helpful to have people point you towards happy stories.  It can feel like they don’t want to enter in to the reality of your pain.  Even with the beautiful moments of my own story, this secondary infertility stuff feels tough.  There are many Biblical stories about women of faith who were granted the gift of a child even after long waits and apparent barrenness.  Sometimes that feels encouraging.  Sometimes that feels like another example of God remembering while He still forgets me.  I was floored and angered to recently run across a website where a woman was claiming if you just had enough faith and prayed the right things, God would give you a child.  Maybe she meant to be helpful, but the implication is if you’re infertile it’s because you’re doing something wrong.  Can you imagine a way to add more pain to an already heartbreaking situation than to say it’s not just this woman’s fault physically, but also spiritually that she can’t conceive?  By that logic it would seem we could also imply anyone who has children has them because they have achieved this magical level of faith.  As a woman who has been occasionally pregnant I can assure you, it isn’t because I finally attained spiritual perfection.

Maybe this won’t be encouraging to you, but let me tell you about another Bible passage that has been a help for me.  This is Proverbs 30: 15-16-

The leech has two daughters: Give and Give. Three things are never satisfied; four never say, “Enough”:

Sheol, the barren womb, the land never satisfied with water, and the fire that never says, “Enough.”

So how in the world can that be comforting?  I know this is how God made me.  He created my desire to be fruitful and He closed my womb.  I can’t say I understand all the reasons why that’s what He chose for me, but it is incredibly comforting to know He understands this is painful.  He isn’t surprised by my hurt and frustration and the fact that even with four children it is hard for me to say “Enough” when I acutely feel this barrenness.  He isn’t angry when I cry out to Him or disappointed in my lack of faith.  I don’t believe He is waiting for me to say the right magic words or have the perfect amount of faith before healing my body.

I do think He has put me in this position for a reason.  He wants me to learn something.  Some days I think maybe I know what that is and maybe I’m learning it.  And some days I think He just wants me to be faithful in the waiting and the not knowing.  It’s a hard position for those of us who like answers and love control.  But when God puts you in a place of dependency on His grace and wisdom, the only choice is to obey.  Maybe we’ll see the rewards in this life and maybe we’ll wait until heaven.  Either way, God is close to us and is a comfort in our weakness.  Until we feel His arms around us, I hope we’re functioning as that comfort for each other as we walk what can be a very painful road.

(you can listen to my radio interview on this topic here)