Oh Guilt how I hate you so! One of the other emotions that plagues me often is guilt, especially when it comes to infertility. I feel guilty that God gave my sweet husband a flawed and infertile wife. I felt guilty that even though I had one child my heart ached for another one. I felt guilty that I had friends who didn’t even have husbands so who was I to complain about infertility? I felt guilty that I have friends who have never been able to have a child. I felt guilty that I couldn’t believe God’s Truth that He made me wonderfully and fearfully, He did have my best interest in mind, and He cares for me. Oh the list goes on and on.

Not everyday was an ugly, hopeless day for sure. But they did happen. That’s the reality of the fallen and broken world we live in. But God has used this journey for me to remind me of His tender mercies. To see hurting people in new ways. He’s brought people into my life that struggle with the same issues that I get to minister to because I too have walked this road.

Maybe you have never walked this road but at some point you will meet someone who is. I hope that by me sharing it gives just a little insight into how they may feel and how you can love them in the process.

I’m thankful that God allowed this so that we would run into the road of adoption sooner rather than later. We have a beautiful miracle son as a result of a path of pain. God can bring beauty out of all things.

And I know many are thinking and have said ( I even thought it) “Now you’ll get pregnant.” But no that didn’t happen and statistically that only happens to 3% of people who adopt. In fact it’s no longer a possibility for me which in turn has lead to more mourning and grief on some level. But who knows what’s ahead for our family. Jenna insists that we are meant to have 3 children. She tells me all the time she needs a sister too. I have my doubts I could handle that and other days I still think I can’t live without my African baby. I can still see the faces of the orphans I held while in Zambia and that was 10 years ago. Who knows what road lies ahead……….

What I do know is that I am called to be a servant of the King first and foremost. The journey that we walk is really all about God anyway, not me. Being a wife, mom, friend, daughter, etc. doesn’t make me more important or fulfilled although those are incredible blessings. God is the only one who fills every hole in our lives and brings complete satisfaction. God is good and has created us all for a purpose and with His skillful Hand. I am fearfully and wonderfully made whether I feel like it or not. My infertility has not defined me but it has shaped me. What has God used in your life to shape you?

I’ve had a friend ask how she can love a friend on this journey. So here are some thoughts on that (and this was not an easy one to write. I think I’ve edited it over and over and over again. I fear not being helpful or sounding like an ass but here it is anyway. I hope it’s helpful in some way.)

I have had people minister to my soul by just being there and saying nothing. I have had words aptly spoken that ministered to my soul and I have also felt stuck down and defeated by words numerous times as well. I’m sure that I’ve done the same to others without knowing it. I think I’m helping and I want to say something wise and I say the wrong thing.

These things may not be helpful for everyone because everyone is different but here are some things I think were helpful for me, encouraged me, helped me feel loved or things to avoid:

• Listen without judgment
• Don’t pretend my pain and infertility is not happening, but don’t feel the need to talk about it every time we’re together either.
• Don’t be weird about it. I honestly don’t know how to explain this. I just know what it feels like when someone acts strangely around me when it comes to this topic. Probably not helpful at all. Sorry.
• Don’t stop talking when I come into a room because you think I’m too fragile to handle the joy. That only makes me feel more isolated. I want others to have a family and experience the blessings children bring.
• If I don’t come to your baby shower don’t assume I don’t care. I’m truly happy for you it may just be too much to attend at that time.
• Don’t delay in telling me you’re pregnant or tell me in such a way that you expect me to fall apart. I want to rejoice with you even if it’s hard.
• Please don’t say “at least you know you can get pregnant.” It’s not helpful to know that. It may never happen again (and didn’t).
• Please don’t remind me how I should be thankful for the child(ren) I have. I already know that. It doesn’t take away from the pain that a dream I had for my family is not the way I thought it would be.
• Keep in mind that a woman struggling with infertility will be reminded EVERY month that her dream is not coming true. This may happen for years and that’s hard and takes a toll.
• Send a card telling me that you’re praying for me.
• Sometimes a hug is all I needed. No words at all are sometimes better.

I realize that everyone is different. These are just some things that I think are helpful to know. Try to put yourself in their shoes. How would you feel? What would be helpful to you?

We all will experience pain and the loss of a dream in our life. We may not understand someone’s pain or even agree with how they handle it but we can love them, extend grace and gently give Truth when they need it, or just hold their hand. I think that when someone is on a painful journey they just need to be loved gently and pointed toward Christ.

What is helpful for you when you’re experiencing a painful situation? Any helpful thoughts?

*photo courtesy of lonesome:cycler’s

I still have an aversion to waiting rooms. To me it’s one of the loneliest places to sit. I used to have to pray that I wouldn’t have breakdowns while sitting in the waiting room. It felt so isolating and lonely and I spent a lot of time there for a lot of months. Excited moms to be would come in and out and I would sit and wait and wonder if that would be me one day. Infertility is an extremely lonely place to be. Another reason we should share this journey with others. It’s not meant to be walked alone.

However, God used those darkest months for me (especially right after losing the baby) to draw me to Hm in a way that I have never experienced before. I won’t go into detail about all of it but I actually began to see Him as a grieving Shepherd that was sitting with me and not saying a word, only being there for me. He wasn’t angry with me or punishing me for how I felt or even mad that I didn’t really want Him there. He just sat with me and cried with me and gave me grace and time to heal. He used Psalm 23 to minister to me in a great way and since then He has used it over and over again.

A couple more months of testing only to find out there were more issues with my body and lower chances yet of conceiving. But somehow God managed to overcome those barriers and we got pregnant with Jenna. It was an extremely joyful time, thankful time and a fearful time because I always wondered when the dream would be taken away. My pessimistic nature at work for sure.

When we decided after having Jenna that it was time to try again and that we really wanted to add another child to our family we found more heartache. After a year of trying you get that oh so terrific label “infertile.” When you are told that you are infertile a sense of hopelessness makes a way into your life and it’s a battle to get it out. We did a few months of fertility treatment asking God to give us a peace if it didn’t work so we could move on to what He had for us in the future. The doctors would say, “It all looks good. There’s no reason it shouldn’t work this month.” Only to have it not work. They may have been skilled but they were not God.

We were SO so thankful to have a child so that made the infertility road a little different the second time around. But it was still lonely, still heartbreaking and still the lie that God was holding out crept in. I would have friends say, “well at least you have one child.” Yep, very true. But I wanted to say, “Why were you not content with just one?”  I don’t know many people who choose to only have one child. I think hurtful, although well intentioned comments makes the loneliness all the more evident in this journey. So what should people say? A friend asked some good questions that I hope to answer with some clarity next time.