Healing Rain On Barren Land – My Story of Infertility

[REPOST]

I always dreamed of being married and having children.

My husband had similar dreams. Once Bobby and I married, we waited to start a family. Our goal was to further our careers. Racing is an all-consuming passion, and it takes from you as much as you give it. Bobby was passionately pursuing his dream – the one that God gave him as a young child. I essentially had two jobs – my job in the corporate world and as Business Manager for the racing operation. We delayed parenting, but finally came the day when we agreed to put aside the birth control.

The months and years passed. No baby. I went through the range of emotions one goes through in trying to get pregnant.

God and I had some raucous wrestling matches. Seriously, fists were raised to the heavens.

I always left these battles grateful for a God who allowed me to rail my disappointment at him and loved me anyway.

I stopped going to church on Mother’s Day. It was hard to sit through a sermon about motherhood without crying, and I’m not particularly eager to wear my feelings for all to see. One Mother’s Day sealed the deal. We were leaving the sanctuary, and I was still reeling from the service. Oh, no. Little girls were waiting at every exit, passing out flowers to all of the mothers. One little girl handed me a flower and very sweetly wished me “Happy Mother’s Day.” I smiled and thanked that darling little girl as best I could and hightailed it to my car.

I also stopped going to baby showers. I know many women in my situation feel jealous of mothers, but I never felt that. I genuinely believe in rejoicing with those who rejoice. I was happy for their happiness, but tears would leak out at the most inopportune times. I am not a fan of high drama.

We assumed I would get pregnant, so I didn’t obtain diagnostic testing for my infertility until I was past thirty-five. Thinking back, I guess we didn’t want to admit that we needed it. My 35th birthday changed everything.

Bobby and I faced every step of our struggle together.

I’m never shy of sharing anything and everything with him. But for some reason, I still don’t understand; there was one thing I kept to myself. I had this “do or die” date in my head. I wanted, no needed, to be pregnant by my 35th birthday. Period. (No pun intended.) I woke up that day. Barren. And everything came down on me. I literally couldn’t move from the bed.

My good good man stepped in. It was June and the height of the racing season. He canceled every plan for the day, called me in sick at work, and returned to bed. His love and care for me that day is something for which I will always be grateful. It was also the beginning of my understanding. Over the next several weeks, I realized that deeply felt, unexpressed emotion was creating insidious stress in me. I had so much to be grateful for – a loving husband, parents who only wanted the best for me, supportive family, friends, and great jobs and home.

I began to acknowledge that God’s plan – whatever it was – was loving and good and right. God was allowing me to grow, develop and heal.

I went to the doctor in another place emotionally. We did the testing, and they said that there was zero chance of us conceiving. Well. OK. I honestly felt better than I had in years about it. Knowing helped me. I should have done that sooner. I’m not saying that every woman would feel this way. It’s just that I had allowed God to start the healing inside of me weeks before, and this was another step.

The anger wasn’t over.

A few years later, we started talking about adoption, and – WHAM – I was struck with the news that I had cancer. Of course, that ended that. I didn’t even know if any adoption agency would accept me, but that didn’t matter. I needed to be clear that I would be around to be a mother to a child.

I have another story if you think you can handle it. If not, skip to the end. I’m heavy today.

It was Mother’s Day again. And, I wasn’t in church. I know, I was healing and all that. But, these things take time. Bobby asked if I minded if he went to church, and I didn’t. I was home alone and preparing my mom’s favorite meal. They were coming by later. One thing I have always been thankful for on Mother’s Day – no matter what – is my beautiful mother. She’s always been my rock, my supporter, and my close, close friend. More like a sister. My bestie. She, of course, was walking with me in this, like everything else in my life.

So, I’m bouncing around the house, listening to praise music, and I’m cooking. I started pounding the veal for my mom’s favorite, Veal Marsala. As I’m hitting it, I feel myself beginning to strike it harder. And harder. Soon, I’m wailing on it and talking out loud in the kitchen. “Stupid cancer. Stupid body. No baby! Now I have this stupid, stupid cancer! Ahhhhhhhh!”

If you know me, you know this is not like me. I am not prone to fits of anger. People who know me – my husband who lives with me – know me as a joyful person. I AM joyful! But, this was good for me. I got it out. And, it was so unlike me, ridiculous behavior really – that I just started laughing. Then I continued with my cooking. And praising.

As we gathered around the table to celebrate, my mom tasted the dinner and remarked, “Wow, this veal is the most tender I’ve ever eaten. It is just melting in my mouth!” I couldn’t contain my laughter. I told everyone the story, and we laughed so hard! We agreed that the veal would probably never be that tender again, so we better eat a lot.

Infertility is not a subject that I’ve talked about with many people. I’m still debating publishing this. But this blog is a love letter to others. So, I think of women struggling with infertility, and I want to help. And I don’t forget and pray for women dealing with miscarriages, women processing the loss of a stillborn child, women who are blessed to get pregnant and then experience traumatic labor and birth, and those who have had to leave babies in an isolating, indifferent NICU.

My Advice

If you know God, understand that he has a plan for your life. A plan to prosper you. Ask him what it is. It’s OK if your asking is loud and even a little rude. He’s the God of the universe. He can take it.
Share your feelings with your spouse. I’ve seen marriages break over less. Fight to stay close and face it together. Don’t let this thing steal something else from you.
Pound some veal. Remember that unexpressed emotion does no body good.
Go and find out what’s wrong. Knowing what you can do and doing it will feel and be productive. Even if nothing is possible, you’ll feel some closure.
It’s OK not to share everything with others. You might answer well-meaning but thoughtless questions about your child-free life with “We’re working on it” or “I’ll let you know when I have news to share.”
Permit yourself to skip painful events. This too shall pass, but for now, protect yourself and your well-being.

Yes, I have felt the wrenching pain of barrenness. But God has provided cool, soothing rain of tremendous blessing!

And (moms, skip this part), I know that there are lovely things in my life that I would not have if I had children. Time to develop this uniquely loving relationship with this wonderful man by my side. Attention to serving others well. Spontaneous and fun adventures.

Bobby just sat down beside me and asked what I’m writing. I said, “Oh, I’m not sure you want to know. It’s our infertility story. Is that OK?” He smiled that cute, cute smile and said, “Yeah. It’s OK now.”

Hmm. Yeah. It’s OK now.

Just counting my many blessings over here.