Dear mother of the the infertile woman,

Dear mother of the infertile woman,

I write this to the mothers. But it really is for fathers too. It's just that mothers are usually the ones more directly involved. They are the ones privy to the personal details. They are the ones called upon when the tears cannot stop flowing. They are the communicator to their spouse of the most recent information: a failed cycle, a failed adoption, another cycle that signifies pregnancy did not occur.

Your daughter is infertile. Or maybe a daughter-in-law that you love greatly.

Your child ... is childless.

Dear mother of the infertile, your role is so important in the life of this barren woman in your life. She is grieving something monumental, and unless, by chance, you grieved it once too, you truly cannot imagine the depth of this pain accurately.

In addition, her grief is also for you. She longs to see you hold their baby and spoil their baby and hear their baby call you grandma. (Or Nana or Oma or whatever other name you always thought you'd be called.)

And she can't give you that.

No matter how hard she tries.

And you are left wondering, questioning, pleading, begging for a happy ending. Your prayers are rampant but feel unanswered. You want, more than anything to help this wonderful woman in your life in any way that you can. 

I am going to help you do this.

But be forewarned. This will be tough love. I will not mince words. I will shoot you very straight. And it might be hard to hear because you will hear me tell you not to do something that you have been doing.

Or you will hear met tell you to do something that you think is unnecessary. 

But please hear me.

Infertility is not dealt today the way it was dealt with in your day.

And for that, I am very glad. Women of the current generation are grieving this properly. They are being allowed to grieve. They still grieve in different ways, but this is no longer a quiet disease that you push down into the recesses of your soul. In addition, our social media has brought other people's personal lives hard and fast right into her face day in and day out.

She has to watch people announce their pregnancies, detail their pregnancies, and share way too much about the pregnancies as if she had a front row seat.

Each detail of a baby's life is photographed and splashed right in front of her face.

Every day.

She is grieving. Hard.

And you must let her deal with this her way.

How do you do that?

Tell her that you love her. Tell her that you are praying for her. Listen. Say, "That sucks" as many times as it needs to be said. (That stinks will also suffice.) Be present. Do not offer advice. Just offer your ear. And your hugs. And your heart. Respect her feelings even if you don't think you would do it the same way.

But more than that, you must give her an exceptional amount of grace and freedom to grieve this the way she needs to grieve this loss. 

This is especially important if you have another child who has children or is having children. You may feel that your infertile daughter should act a certain way. You may think she needs to be present at baby showers and christenings and baptisms and birthday parties. You may be embarrassed that she is in the bathroom crying while the gender reveal party is going on.

But you don't feel what her heart feels. 

Not even close.

This pain is monumental and all-encompassing and completely suffocating and beyond anything you could even attempt to understand. And you going on and on about your other grandchildren or telling her that she should be happy for her sibling who just found out she was pregnant is not fair and truly, none of your business. Let your daughter work this out with her sibling in whatever way she needs to work it out. 

In other words. This is not about you.

I repeat.

This. 

Is. 

Not. 

About. 

You.

This isa bout your daughter. Or your daughter-in-law and her spouse. This is about the way she is processing it. You may think she should process it differently. You may think you would have or did process it differently. That may be true. But how she is processing this is how she is processing it and it is okay.

Do not ...

• ask your daughter if she has thought about adopting. She will bring it up when she is ready. 
• complain about not being a grandma or nag her to get a move on.
• give unwarranted advice about treatments they are pursuing or decisions they have made.
• think she should be sharing more.
• think she should be sharing less.
• expect her to do things the way you think you would do them.
• expect her to be able to be happy for her siblings.
• discuss God's providence.
• suggest she relax or stop trying so hard.
• start any story with, "I know someone who ..."

Instead ...

• Recognize that not being able to have a child is the loss of a dream. 
• Pray for her.
• Send her an email or card on a big day (like an attempt with an IUI or IVF.)
• Understand that she may want to talk about this all the time.
• Understand that she may not want to talk about this at all. 
• Spoil her.
• Put her in touch with other women "in their situation."
• Invite her to all events but give them a huge option to "opt. out."
• Read books that will help you understand.
• Listen.
• Tell her you love them.
• Say "I understand" even if you don't.
• Hug her. (If they are a hugger.)
• And say "that sucks" when news is bad.

You, dear mother of the infertile have the ability to serve your daughter during this time. How you choose to handle this can define your relationship for years to come. It can bring you together or create a chasm in your relationship that even years later, after her life is filled with children (or not), you can't seem to cross.

How you handle this will define your relationship.

You can do this.

Get your game face on.

Go!

You exist because I yearned

I yearned for you.

I begged. 

I pleaded. 

I cried. 

I prayed. 

I sobbed. 

I grieved.

I met with any doctor who would listen. I gave myself shots. Your Daddy gave me shots. I was probed.  I was tested. I went to more appointments than I could count.

We did ultrasounds and blood draws and procedures and more ultrasounds.

We conferred and conferenced and discussed and researched and educated ourselves.

They said Clomid. We did that three times.

Three times it didn't work.

They said artificial insemination. We did that five times.

Five times it didn't work.

Then they said in vitro fertilization. We tried that four times.

Four times it didn't work.

If they said to try it, we found the money, and we tried it. We borrowed it. We scrimped for it. We gave up anything we could for it.

We did all this for you.

But still you didn't come.

We passed our fifth anniversary. Our seventh. Our ninth.

Still infertile.

Still childless.

I wanted you so badly that some days I felt like my heart could break from the desire -- form how much I yearned to hold someone I hadn't ever met.

I pictured you. 

I dreamed of you. 

I thought of you. 

I longed for you.

And so we kept pressing. Kept trying. Kept pushing. Kept hoping. Kept yearning for YOU.

Invitro? One more time?

Yes. One more.

The very last time we tried IVF, two tiny embryos were dropped into my womb. The ultrasound tech whispered, "Two little shooting stars," as the camera watched you and your sibling glide into my womb.

More waiting.

More dreaming.

More hoping.

More yearning.

And if we were honest, we would have said that we didn't believe we would ever meet you.

Today, you are here and you are 15 months old and you have long brown hair and big blue eyes and a personality that constantly tells us you will not let the world tell you who you are.

Today, you are climbing and putting fistfuls of food into your mouth and smearing spaghetti in your hair and saying new words every chance you can. You are giving huge hugs and saying, "Na!" when you plant a kiss on our cheek. You are starting to run and read books and ...

I love you.

I yearned for you.

I never gave up on you.

And because of that desire and a really cool God

I am your mom.

You exist because I yearned.

And I yearned because I loved you before I knew you.

And now I know you.

And I love you Hannah Joy.

It's a pleasure to meet you.

It's a pleasure to be your Mommy.

Joy Cometh in the Morning

I'm sorry you are still waiting.

I wish your dreams didn't take so long to come true.

Why is it fast for them

But so slow for you?

It feels like forever.

I know.

I remember what forever feels like.

Long.

But then suddenly, forever was over.

The wait was over.

And time began passing at a regular speed.

While it may not feel that way to you

I promise you

That you will not wait forever.

Peace will come.

Hang on.

Lean on me.

Pray.

Trust.

Hope.

Believe.

And when you can't do those things

Know that I am doing them for you.

My heart has stood where your heart is now.

It has felt

Exactly what your heart feels.

Joy cometh in the morning.

Sovereign Over Us

Because of Isaac has just fully funded our third couple: Ryan & Briana. And while the money is done, the waiting is not. They are now ... waiting. Waiting for a birthmother to pick them. Their wait could be days. It could be months. It could be longer.

I wanted to share a song with you that Briana shared with me. To any of you out there waiting -- for a job, for a marriage, for a child, for reconciliation .... I hope this song ministers to you.

Piece Published Online

Bethany Christian Services recently published one of my pieces on their Blog and is going to feature that piece in the August edition of their infertility newsletter. I'm very excited about this. One, of course, because I love to write and it has always been something I've done and enjoyed. But two because, it continues to spread the word about infertility, supporting those we love, and not pushing down grief.

You can read the article by clicking here. 

I'm also excited about an upcoming speaking engagement. I will be speaking to a church at my friend Angelica's church in Japan next month. I am also looking at a speaking engagement in the fall at a local church's MOPs group. For anyone is interested, here is a link to my Bio & Public Speaking page which details the type of things I speak on. I am trying to take on these engagements on a very limited basis but with the same mission: to keep infertility an important and discussed topic, to encourage people traveling the road of grief, and to remind people of the beauty of adoption.

Also, please remember that we are still selling shirts for our Because of Isaac organization. We have sold 17 shirts but need to sell 75 to reach our goal. Please spread the message of this awesome fundraiser. If we can sell 75 shirts, we will make $1,000 for our current couple.

Better, not Bitter!

Click here to read this great article by Jessica Hiltz entitled "Better, no Bitter!" "It wasn't the road I had planned on taking," Jessica writes. "Nevertheless, it was the road that God had chosen, and I had two options: I could become bitter or better."

She encourages those traversing the road of infertility to become better by:

1. Searching for encouragement in God's Word
2. Singing hymns and spiritual songs
3. Surrounding yourself with Godly friends who lift you up

Click the link above to read the article in its entirety!

As Time Goes By ...

This past week I have encountered friend after friend after friend who are sitting in a place where I have sat.

Two friends are newly pregnant and very ill.

Two other friends are dealing with infertility issues.

Another is struggling in her marriage after a difficult season in their life.

A lost job.

A lost loved one.

A lost dream.

I sit there. I listen. And I think, "I get it. I understand. I feel what you are feeling. I'm right with you."

And the only way I can feel that way is to have felt that way.

I recently read an article in Bethany Christian Service's newsletter for individuals dealing with infertility: Stepping Stones. Entitled "As Time Goes By" by Jessica Hiltz, she writes: "Seven months later I was sitting in an ice rink chatting with a friend while our husbands play hockey. We were discussing her medical situation, which was very similar to mine. She went on to explain the procedure she might have to have done. It was the same procedure that I had undergone seven months earlier. At that time, she was unaware of my situation."

"As I listened to her speak, her description brought to my mind all that I had been through. I never thought that I would be able to share my story, but I found myself talking with her about my situation. I was able to comfort and encourage her because I had a shared experience. Again, the Lord continued to heal my heart."

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us all in our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. I Corinthians 1:3-4

"We know that God is the God of all comfort, and He often uses us and our experiences to bring comfort to someone who is going through a similar situation," Jessica writes. "He understands what we are feeling more than any human friend could. But often as we struggle, He sends someone to help bear that burden."

God uses the difficult roads we travel to help someone else. He has done it with me time and time and time again. I am not happy I went through five years of intense infertility. I hate that I spent the last year of my life so sick both mentally and physically.

But now, on the other side, He is using it. It is my ministry. I will let it be my ministry.

Will you let it be your's?

Sermon on Infertility

Yesterday I wrote of how I randomly happened upon an incredible Mother's Day sermon by Pastor Bob Coy.

Here it is. What I love about this talk is that he covers motherhood, adoption, abortion, infertility, and prodigals all in one talk.

Here is that talk, in His words.

2 Kings 4:8

One day Elisha went to the town, the town of Shunem. A wealthy woman lived there, and she invited him to eat some food. From then on, whenever he passed that way, he'd stop by.

She said to her husband, "I am sure this man who stops in from time to time is a holy man of God. Let's make a little room for him on the roof and furnish it with a bed, a table, a chair, and a lamp. Then he will have a place to stay whenever he comes by."

Later Elisha asked Gehazi, "What do you think we can do for her?"

And he suggested, "She doesn't have a son, and her husband is an old man."

When the woman returned, Elisha said to her as she stood in the doorway, "Next year about this time you'll be holding a son in your arms!"

"No, my lord!" she protested. "Don't lie to me like that oh man of God."

Now pause right there before we go to verse 17. What is this? Don't lie to me oh man of God? Why does that seem like an apparent contradiction: Don't lie to me man of God.

Here's what she's saying: she's saying: "Don't mess with me! Bearing children is a very sensitive subject if you can't!"

I have to, because some of you know our story, pause long enough to say, it is a very sensitive subject.

Proverbs 30:15-16: "There are three things that are never satisfied. Four that say never enough."

Number 1: the grave. The Proverbs writer says the grave is never satisfied; the grave will always want and take another body.

The second thing on the list?

A barren womb.

This woman has had that hope in her heart for how many years? But the Bible says hope deferred makes the heart sick.

When Elisha the man of God says, "Next year you'll have a baby," she says, "Don't mess with me! That's a serious subject, don't play a game with me. If I'm gonna have a baby, I've got to be certain!"

Why?

Because if you've ever had to go on the rollercoaster ride of infertility, you know that the ups and down can be very, very traumatic.

And we did that roller coaster for 10 years.

And the last couple of years while we were still barren, Mother's Day was not a Sunday that Diane liked to come to church.

Why?

Just too heavy.

There are always some women who still want to be moms.

Let me also say that in a church like ours, the church today, there's another sensitive side to that same subject because the Supreme Court in 1973 said we could say goodbye to the life that our womb is created for. And in this room today there's a handful of women who don't want to hear about Mom. Why do they feel that way? Because now the longing desire they had hoped with their heart, has been dashed by a decision they live to regret.

Now, my responsibility, my position as pastor is one to say, if you did make that decision there is healing found in Jesus Christ.

But let me also say, that if you're a wanna-be mom, there's also healing in the lives of some of the girls who have determined that its best for them to gift their baby for an adoptive purpose.

Because of those girls, you might find there is still life in store for you, and I am the man of God that might be in Elisha's place today and say, "Next year at this time you'll have a baby in your arms."

You say: "Bob I can't believe you'd say that, you have no idea how much that hope lies in my heart."

Oh I know that hope well! Because I remember many years being ago on my living room floor crying out to God, saying, "God I just want to be a dad. Why is this so hard? You know my heart; I want to be a daddy!"

You see these girls who decide to gift their child, what is that? That's the ministry of Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ.

The ministry of Mary?

Yes!

Mary knew that Jesus wasn't hers; Mary knew that Jesus belonged to someone else, and when a young girl finds herself with an unexpected pregnancy and determines that her child is for someone else, there is great healing in the house of God.

Why?

Because God navigates these paths in such a way. You could be someone here, from an adoptive family and your mother is every bit as a mother as anybody's mother who biologically brought them into the world.

My point it's a sensitive subject and if we are to be sensible, sensitive Christians, we will have the same sensitivity as we watch the reaction of the woman who says, "Hey man of God don't' mess with me!"

Well you know the story. Verse 17: "But sure enough, the woman soon became pregnant. And at that time the following year she had a son, just as Elisha had said. One day when her child was older, he went out to help his father, who was working with the harvesters."

And suddenly the son complained, "My head hurts! My head hurts!"

His father said to one of the servants what most fathers say, "Take him to mom."

So the servant took him home and mother held him on her lap. But around noontime he died. She carried him up and laid him on the bed of the man of God, shut the door, and left him there.

She sent a message to her husband: "Send one of the servants and a donkey so that I can hurry to the man of God and come back."

Now Dad is somewhat clueless, so he says, "Why are you going to the man of God today? Is it a new moon? Is it festival or church service?"

She said, "No, it's all right."

Now why does she say it's all right?

Scholars and commentators scatter on this point. Either:

1. She's saying everything is okay because she realizes her husband really can't do what needs to be done.
2. She's saying it's okay because she's trying to be a good wife and leave him alone because he's got a busy business day ahead. 

In verse 24, she saddled the donkey and said to the servant, "Hurry! Don't slow down on my account unless I tell you to."

She approached the man of God at Mount Carmel, and Elisha saw her in the distance. He said to Gehazi, "Look, the woman from Shunem is coming. Run out and meet her and ask her if everything's okay: how's your husband, how's your child?'"

"Yes," the woman told Gehazi, "Everything is fine."

When she came to the man of God at the mountain, she fell to the ground, and she caught hold of his feet. Gehazi began to push her away, but the man of God said, "Leave her alone. Something's troubling her deeply, and the Lord's not told me what it is."

And she said, "It was you," and I can hear the disdain and the disgust in her voice, "My lord who said I would have a son? And didn't I say not to raise my hopes?"

Elisha said to Gehazi, "Get ready, travel, take my staff and go! Don't talk to anyone along the way. Go quickly and lay the staff on the child's face."

But the boy's mother said, "As surely as the Lord lives and you live yourself, I won't go home unless you go with me."

In another words, "Don't send your staff! This is a job for you Elisha, not another pastor."

There are times I say my staff should go and times God says, "No, this is not a job for your staff; this is a job for you."

My point is there are times that God's gonna call you! You will be the one helps the hurting woman who finds that she's beside herself because her son is dead.

Her son is dead!

Spiritually speaking there are a lot of women in this church today who's sons are dead, dead spiritually! They're disconnected from God and some women believe that if they can make their way to Elisha then he will solve the problem ... it may be you that God is choosing to employ to make difference in the life of woman who's son is spiritually dead.

What happens next? Well again, so many of you know the story: "When Elisha arrived, the child was indeed dead, lying there on the prophet's bed. He went in alone and shut the door behind him and prayed to the Lord. And then he lay down on the child's body, placing his mouth on the child's mouth, eyes on the child's eyes, hands on the child's hands. And the child's body began to grow warm again! Elisha got up, walked back and forth in the room a few times, and he stretched himself out again on the child. This time the boy sneezed seven times and opened his eyes! Then Elisha summoned Gehazi. 'Call the child's mother!' And when she came in, Elisha said, 'Take here your son!'"

Labor with unbelievable perseverance. Mom's are your boys dead? Are your daughters dead? Have you come here with a prayer: God please bring spiritual life to my son.

Well I'm glad you have. I don't' know anyone else on the planet that's gonna pray for your boys and girls like you will! I don't know anyone else on the planet that's gonna care for your kids like you will! You can't outsource mom's prayers. There's no prayers like moms prayers because mom is mom and nobody else will pray the way a mom will!

And that's why to this day I still hear my mom's voice. She's been gone for more than 10 years but I still hear my mom speaking,

Don't give up. Just because it appears that your kids are not listening -- they're listening. You're still putting it in, and because your still putting it in, there will be a day that it's gonna come back. And it may be after you're gone.

Again, how many years has my mom been gone with the Lord and I still hear her voice? Trust me, they will still hear your voice, but don't abandon the responsibility because they pay no attention. God will chose to employ your words with the spirit's strength and they will hear your voice mom and dad, just don't give up. Don't give up.

Lastly I want to encourage you surrender with forever faith.

Exodus 2:2. "So the woman conceived and bore a son and when she saw that he was beautiful, she hid him for three months."

Most of you know the story. Moses' mom hid him for three months because, of course, there was a life-threatening leader. "When she could no longer hide him, she took a basket of bulrushes for him, daubed it with asphalt and pitch, put the child in it, and laid it in the reeds by the river's bank."

What did she do?

She released her child with a trust in a greater good. And again I'll say, she released her child with a trust in a greater good.

Moms? It's a powerful position you're in. You can release with a greater good -- it's what Moses mom did, and again it's what Jesus mom did. She released her child for greater good.

Dad's have a way of easily cutting the cord, letting go.

Mom's tie a knot in it.

A lot of people can say they love me. A lot of people can say the say words, Bobby I love you but no one can say, Bobby I love you like my mommy.

Yes many times for the greater good, there's nobody like you mom; nobody like you.

Father God we come to you in Jesus' name. And we're so thankful for this woman that you have placed in our path that has meant so much to the next generation. Lord we pray that today you strengthen their resolve, Lord that they see just how important, how necessary, how imperative, their role and responsibility. Lord if too often we have given them the impression that this thing called mom is, is something that we can outsource, something we can negotiate, Father forgive us. Today we esteem, today we honor, and today we declare our thanks to mom. God bless them, in Jesus name we pray Amen.

You know Jesus said it this way in Mathew 23:11: "If you want to be the greatest you must be the servant of all."

And I think there's a lot of great moms because they chose to be the servants of all. So here's what I say, I've said this before; I declare it today, no dishes for mom today. Guys listen to me, no dishes for mom today! Everyone agree? All right!

Just put them in the sink. She'll do them on Monday.

How to help your friend through infertility

I often get emails from blog readers asking me questions. The question I get the most, a prevailing question if you will, is how can they help a friend who is struggling with infertility.

One of my more popular posts is this one: What not to say to your infertile friend. It details what types of things are helpful or hurtful as you help your friend navigate this difficult journey.

Another popular post I wrote was a letter to a grieving friend. I titled it: To My Grieving Friend.

There is always a person (or more) that I am "currently" supporting in infertility. As a friend has their journey end (either because of a successful treatment or because they decided to stop treatments), another one "pops up" that I start corresponding with -- either in person or via technology.

I will tell you that standing alongside these women, even for me, someone who knows the journey firsthand, is never easy. It is painful for me. It hurts me to see them hurting. It stresses me out to wait for results with them. It angers me when results are negative. (But it really excites me when the results are awesome!)

It also helps me see how wonderful and strong people who stood alongside me were. Wow! It takes a lot of courage to support someone who is in deep pain.

I recently read an article detailing how a couple can survive the pain of repeat miscarriages. While written for couples and miscarriage, I really thought the suggestions were incredibly applicable to anyone standing alongside someone in grief. Some of the tips included:

• Hug. A lot. A full embrace with the your favorite person in the world can help heal in incredible ways. Don’t avoid intimacy, pursue it. Sit close. Sleep closer. Don’t be away from each other for extended periods of time.
• Talk. We talk about our pain, our anger, and our frustrations. We invite our close friends into our conversations and they patiently listen without unloading their suggestions. We also talk about the weather, the Red Sox, and what’s for dinner. Be sure to continue life in increments you can handle.
• Cry. Together. Missy has an amazing way of comforting me by crying with me. She’s silent and she’s present. Our moments of weakness are often perfectly matched in strength by the other, enabling us to carry each other through.
• Pray. It can be silent. It can be quiet. It can be screamed at the top of your lungs. Talk with the God who understands the loss of a child. Ask that He grant you the peace that surpasses all understanding.

The author of this article said something else that was incredibly powerful. He wrote: "I know it’s impossible for a marriage which has suffered loss to pass through unchanged. And I’ve been told the couple has a choice: they can let the trial of fire either define them or refine them."

I so agree. Both for a person and a couple, one must decide how this experience will define their life.

In 2007, during the early days of our intended adoption from China, I wrote a post entitled: Not bitter ... Not broken. I wrote:

The subject of "bitterness" has come up in recent weeks in numerous conversations I have had regarding infertility and grief. Even today, bitterness is my constant enemy. I am very careful not to allow myself to make calloused comments or hateful statements. Phrases like, "I'll never get pregnant. What am I doing wrong? Why can't it be my turn? That's so unfair etc. etc." These phrases just have to be eliminated from my vocabulary. John helps me in this. Early on in my infertility journey I had an image of myself at my own funeral. I realized that the eulogy could go two ways. Either everyone would say, "You know, from the moment she found out she was barren, that woman became the most bitter, biting old hag I ever met ..." Or, people could say, "You know, even though she fought that infertility crud, she never let it get the best of her." I wanted the latter! I wanted to be happy.

As a supportive friend, you are going to see your friend reach a crossroads. They must decide, at some point, that they will either (a) let this experience break them and bitter them OR (b) let this experience make them stronger and better both as a person and a couple.

I chose BETTER over BROKEN. I chose BIGGER over BITTER.

Encourage your friend to use this experience for good. Explain to them how you, watching from the outside, have been changed by their pain, and how it is helping you in your own life. The truth is: you can't make this better for them.  Love them. Let them grieve. And grieve with them.

Love Compels

No matter how far away I feel from my years of infertility, videos like this one featuring my online friend Stacy who is in this video, choke me up every time.

I have been having a rough time emotionally lately. I imagine it is mostly (those darned) hormones. Thinking about going home for Christmas. Going back to Minnesota. Doing IVF again. Struggling a bit. A bit down. Not sure I am ready to be "waiting" again.

For those of you waiting for children or a spouse or a salvation or deliverance, cling to God. He's present. He never changes. He loves you.

To my Grieving Friend

I am so sorry. I have not experienced the exact pain you are currently living through. I can't say, "I understand." But I do know pain. I know how it feels to watch everyone else living a life that you can only dream of. And I know right now life has dealt you a really stinky hand. You feel that life is unfair. You never saw it going this way. You had other plans. You think about what has happened, and you feel your stomach sink. When you wake up in the morning, you have a few seconds before reality sets in. A few seconds before you realize that, in fact, your dream is not the nightmare. Your reality is the nightmare.

You love the Lord. You call Him Father. You grew up following His commands. Sure, you're not perfect. But you're a lot more perfect than other people. You did things the way God said. And despite all that, you are facing news that feels heavier than anyone should be asked to bear. It threatens to suffocate you. It catches in your throat. It overcomes you in places you'd never imagine. The grocery store. The post office. During a commercial. As you lay in bed at night. In a moment that should be happy. But instead all you can feel is sadness. Sadness or nothing at all.

You know it could be worse. Of course it could. It can always be worse. Yes, there are people who are dealing with much more. And you feel guilty about that. You feel guilty about being so sad. You want to let this roll over you. You want it to not mean so much. You want it to not hurt so bad. But it does. It hurts really bad. How can you spend the rest of your life with this pain always a part of your history? You wonder if you will always feel this way. Will every moment always feel this layer of sadness?

I don't have the answers. And to attempt to give them would not be helpful. So instead, I want to tell you what I do know.

I know that this pain will always be a part of you. This pain will always be in your history. But this hurt will not always hurt as badly as it does right now. The Lord will help you find reason. You will never want to relive this pain, but you will be able to say that the pain was good for you. It helped you. It matured you. It grew you. It made you the person you are.

And not only will this pain help you, but this pain will help others. Every time someone confides in you about their hurt, you will able to understand them. You will relate. You will have compassion. You will have the words (or lack thereof) that are exactly what they need in their moment of pain. You will be their friend. You will be exactly what they need.

This hurts. Bad. But dear friend, I promise you that the Lord is with you. He sees your pain. He feels your pain. And He will put purpose into your pain. I promise you that someday, you will look back. You will not want to go back to this place. But you will not hurt the same. You will feel better. Your pain will not suffocate you anymore. You will make peace. You will have peace.

I once had a friend who had faced a fierce blow. When we next saw each other, significant time had passed. As we walked along the beach eating ice cream and sharing about our lives, I asked her how she was. And she said to me, "I knew I'd be sort of happy again. But I thought I would be faking it. I really didn't believe I could find happiness again. Not happiness that was real and more than just lip service."

But she had. God had brought her back to a place of peace. The sadness will always be part of her. But now it is a part of her past ... not her present.

I cannot tell you how long this pain will last. But I can tell you that joy will come in the morning. Tell the Lord how you feel. Confide in Him. Be honest. Yell. Scream. Beg. Plead. Weep. But don't stop loving Him. Fight bitterness. And fight to praise. Remember, God is who He is, no matter where you are.

And know that I am praying for you. I will pray for you now. I will pray for you on your good days. And on your bad days. And on the days in between.

I love you friend. God and I both love you. And we are here for you. Lean on us. We can take it. Let's grieve and let's praise Him in this storm ... together.



P.S. Click here to listen to a song that has been my theme verse during my darkest days: Casting Crowns: Praise You in this Storm. To read this post on my original blog, click here.

Our story on video

Here's a video featuring our story in twenty minutes. Our dear friend Linda put this together for us. It will eventually be linked from my main website: www.wendikitsteiner.com. It tells the story of our infertility and adoption journey in our own words. I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear what you think of it. We eventually hope to edit it more and put together a smaller version as well. Enjoy!

To be fruitful

While working through Beth Moore's Breaking Free Bible Study, I was touched to discover that she was going to devote an entire day to infertility in this study. I wanted to take the opportunity to summarize some of what I learned during this study for those of you who haven't take it before.

Every little girl has at least four main dreams:

1. To be a bride
2. To be beautiful
3. To be fruitful
4. To live happily ever after

Of course, for those of you have been following my blog for any significant portion of the six years I have been writing, you know what my focus is going to be on. Number 3 it is.
Beth Moore actually writes: "Without a doubt, some of the unhappiest women I've ever known have been those who wanted children and were unable to have them." She goes on to say that Shame is Satan's game and that her friends dealing with infertility have asked themselves questions like "Why me? Why my husband? What did I do to deserve this? Is this my punishment for sex before marriage? Is this my punishment for having an abortion? Would I have been such a terrible mother? ..."
Beth goes on to make four fantastic points regarding barenness:

1. Barrenness does not imply sinfulness. Here she uses a scripture from Luke 1:5-7. How I travelled the infertile road without ever seeing this scripture, I have no idea. In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly. But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both very old. This was incredibly powerful to me! Elizabeth and John were walking with the Lord and barren. There was no sin that caused this.
2. Hearts not surrendered to God can seldom be trusted. Beth Moore writes that, "Until we surrender our hopes and dreams to Christ, we really have very little way of knowing what would fulfill us." She goes on to explain that if we are relying on a circumstance to make ourselves happy, we may end up bankrupt. Unhappiness is not solved by any one thing (marriage, baby, job, etc.)
3. God created every life to be fruitful. Beth Moore encourages us to remember that the dream of being fruitful is more than just one of physical offspring. I do believe this is true. I believe we are called to the widows and orphans. We are called beyond what our womb can bear.
4. I believe our girlish dream to have babies represent even more than the obvious. I love the way she explains this. She writes: "[Dreams] represent a desire to have fruitful lives, to invest ourselves in something that matters. Something that affects. Something that grows. It not, wouldn't God be cruel to allow any woman to dream of children yet disable her to have them? I don't believe God allows surrendered hearts to continue to long for things He will not ultimately grant in one way or another. Our disappointment with God is often the result of our small thinking."

Another thing Beth Moore mentioned that I never really thought of, is that one day, all of us will be barren. In other words, I will reach an age (soon in my case) that I will not be able to physically have children anymore. Am I to assume that at this point my fruitfulness ends? So true!***

I have been thinking about this. One day my boys will not need me. It's hard to believe that now. But they will lead their own lives. In my case, I feel lead to be a mother for a long time. We see ourselves adopting for many years to come. What about you? How will you continue to be fruitful when the time for physical fruit has passed?***

... just a few notes to share with you that ministered to me. I hope you find something in these words that minister to you.

***A note which I left out prior but might be helpful if you have done the study. I did find that Beth Moore (and other women in our group agreed) trivialized infertility in the sense that she felt that it could be "replaced" by a role of a spiritual mom. I decided not to focus on this in my outline here on the blog and instead just focus from what I did take. That being said, there was quite a bit that I had to leave behind that just wasn't accurate.

Not bitter ... not broken

Today JB and I had our physicals for the adoption. The appointment was with another fellow resident who was extremely sweet. She has an adopted sister from Taiwan and couldn't help but say repeatedly how honored she was to take part in this process. John was seeing other patients, however, he stopped in for a few minutes and will get some of his other tests done later. We also went in early this morning for blood work and a urine sample. The good news is that it looks like we are healthy enough to be parents!

During the course of my appointment this afternoon, I found myself getting pretty emotional. In fact, during the drive on the way home, I burst out into tears. I am not exactly sure where those tears came from. I think part of the emotions is the fact that, as most of you know I don't ovulate. And if I do ovulate it usually 1-2 times a year. Well I did ovulate last month, I knew I was ovulating, and yet again, we are not pregnant. Now I know that this is likely. Even if I do successfully ovulate, we have a secondary "speed bump" in that there is some sort of sperm binding issue working against us. I know that. I also know that a pregnancy would completely halt our adoption in its tracks. And yet, it is difficult not to get hopeful.

The other thing that got to me was just being in a doctor's office in general. I kept thinking that the last time I was in a doctor's office, I was doing my fourth round of IVF. As this physician spoke with me and she asked me about my infertility history, she seemed flabbergasted as I listed the procedures: 2 rounds of clomid, 5 rounds of artificial insemination, 2 harvests for IVF, 4 IVF transfers ... Did we really do all that? I told her we still had 7 embryos to go back for and as I said it I thought, "How can I do that again?" I don't want to do that again. Will I ever, emotionally, be able to handle the process of IVF again nevertheless a minimum of two times more? More shots, more pills, more appointments. Of course my ever rationale husband would tell me, "Now Wendi, that is many years away. Is there any point in worrying now about that?" No dear JB. There isn't.

I realized that during the last four years, I was going to the doctor at least five times a month for infertility related issues. This is my best estimate. Some months were more. Some months were less. Some months I went five times in a week! Anyways, with that modest estimate, that equals 60 times a year. Multiply that by four years and you have 240 appointments. Now think about the fact that most of these required needles and exams most people don't enjoy and discussions of an extremely personal part of our lives, and, you know, I just can't believe I actually made it through that. Nor can I imagine going through it again.

The subject of "bitterness" has come up in recent weeks in numerous conversations I have had regarding infertility and grief. Even today, bitterness is my constant enemy. I am very careful not to allow myself to make calloused comments or hateful statements. Phrases like, "I'll never get pregnant. What am I doing wrong? Why can't it be my turn? That's so unfair etc. etc." These phrases just have to be eliminated from my vocabularly. John helps me in this. Early on in my infertility journey I had an image of myself at my own funeral. I realized that the eulogy could go two ways. Either everyone would say, "You know, from the moment she found out she was barren, that woman became the most bitter, biting old hag I ever met ..." Or, people could say, "You know, even though she fought that infertility crud, she never let it get the best of her." I wanted the latter! I wanted to be happy.

But this is hard when you feel like you are the only woman in the world who can't get pregnant. For awhile, every pregnant woman I saw was just a stab in the gut -- a reminder of what I couldn't have. To combat this, I made myself PRAY for the woman and her baby every time a pregnant person passed me. Well that did the trick. You can't be silently cursing someone when you are praying for them now can you? I also started the blog to help share my thoughts and feelings with friends and family and open up the conversation on the topic. I told people how they could help. I asked friends to be sensitive with pregnancy announcements. I made it a personal goal to help educate the public about infertility. I discovered Target.com and realized I could send a baby gift without ever having to walk back into the baby section again! I decided I would not attend any baby showers for the sake of my own sanity. I helped start the support group at my church in Minnesota. I found "Hannah's Prayer" online. I started going to counseling. I turned to my best bud Kristi and a few other close friends who had experienced the pain of infertility. I did everything that I could to stay healthy. I did not want to turn into a bitter woman. I did not want to get depressed. There were many nights JB would go down his "depression checklist" and then tell me that I was doing okay. "You aren't depressed. You are just very, very sad," he would say. He learned how to help me. We learned how to help each other.

I am not glad we had to deal with infertility. What I am glad about is that I have learned how to grieve. I have learned how to comfort others who are grieving. I have understood what it feels like to question God, your faith, your stability, your marriage, your future, eternity. And I have come out on the other side. Today in the doctor's office I think I realized that I am no longer "the infertile woman". I am the "woman who will soon be a mom." I was so relieved to have all that behind me, at least for awhile. It felt good!