As I observed this vacant scene on the shores of Lake Erie, I marveled at the wonder of God’s creation and how, every year, He allows nearly every sign of life to be obscured by ice, freezing temperatures and snow.
When we first started trying for a baby two and a half years ago, the early months held tendrils of hope. My mind swam with thoughts of our future family, not thinking for a moment of the difficulty we might face along the way.
It was 6AM, and my eyes were heavy as I tried to make sense of the Scripture passage laid out in front of me.
Infertility is a physical problem, but it has ramifications that go far beyond the physical. God gave us not just a body, but a mind, heart, and soul (Matthew 22:37).
Because that’s what isolation really is - darkness. It’s keeping your struggle, your pain, your desires hidden so that you feel all alone. That’s why I wanted to share this post today – even from the midst of the struggle - because you are not alone. No matter how hurt you may be feeling or how much you would rather just hide or deal with it yourself. You are not alone. We weren’t meant to face trials in this life alone.
During the first year of trying to conceive, I was able to remain optimistic month after month while Jordan felt the disappointment intensely. I remember her crying at night, “What’s wrong with me?” , “Why can’t I get pregnant?” , “What’s wrong with my body?” I remember praying specifically, “God, whatever the issue is, please let it be me, not Jordan.” I didn’t want her to put the blame on herself. I didn’t want her to feel the pain of being the “cause” of infertility.
At the intersection of belief and experience, will you trust God’s goodness, or rely on the certainty of your pain?
We had it all planned out. We would get pregnant in September, and have our baby in June, so my teacher-husband could have three months off with our newborn. It was a great plan. It just wasn’t God’s plan.
The loss of conceiving biological children is not a loss that many understand, but it is a loss. I felt stuck in my grief.
The season of waiting, of loss, of grief, is such a difficult one. It is hard. We are never promised an easy life.
