I am part of a ladies book club at our church. We meet one or two Saturdays each month, discuss the chapter read, and share. Opening up our hearts to one another - sharing our life experiences, gaining insight, and learning more about the other ladies, ourselves, and God.
I cherish these Saturday morning book discussions.
And one theme that keeps coming to my mind each time we meet is that we all have something to share, something to give to one another.
When I think of my life experiences so far, I don't think of myself as someone with important information or knowledge or insight to pass along. I don't consider our struggles with infertility anything special or out-of-the-ordinary. But the ladies of this book club remind me that I do have something to share. Something to give back. And if my life experience with infertility (and later adoption) can benefit just one person then I will continue to share.
When I think back to those days of deeply longing...desiring...to have a child and to become a mom, I can immediately go right back there in my mind and heart. It deeply impacted me. And although your struggles and hardships might be very different than mine, I can tell you that pain is pain. Pain is gut-wrenching and hard. Pain can feel never-ending. Pain can make us feel completely overwhelmed.
Infertility caused me pain. Deep pain.
Infertility was my first real memory of a life situation that was hugely out of my control. And when you're in that place of not being in control...and trusting in someone or something else...life's down-right scary.
People have often asked me, "How did you get through it?" "How did you go on?"
There were days I wasn't sure how to go on. There were days that my heart hurt so badly that I just wanted to cry...and I did. Crying is a beautiful thing. Humbling, at times, but cleansing and invigorating. I remember moments in our journey that I would go into our bedroom, curl up into the fetal position on the floor, and pour my heart out...crying and sobbing...to the Lord. I questioned Him. I pleaded with Him. And admittedly, I even got mad at Him. But each time I went to that place of releasing it all and turning it over to Him, I was filled with peace.
I also chose to focus on others. While going through infertility, my mind would often try to focus on myself and on our situation and on how bad it was for me and on and on. I came to a place where I recognized that focusing on me was not going to make it better. I had to often choose to think about other things and be intentional about asking others how they were doing. I did not want to allow myself to become selfish in the midst of my pain. And I knew others were going through junk, worse junk than our situation. Allowing myself to focus on others and think outwardly, rather than inwardly, really helped my heart, enabled healing to take place, and kept things in perspective.
I wanted people in my life to keep me accountable, too. Yes, there were times when I needed to cry. Yes, it was okay and justified for me to be mad at times, too. Yes, I was allowed to wish things were different or wish I didn't have to go through this. But sometimes I just needed my close friends and family to remind me that I was going to be okay. They challenged me to think things through differently, encouraged me, or simply listened. For me, having someone to just listen was the best medicine at times. I could vent and release things...and yet stay grounded in the Lord...because of their accountability.
And lastly, I did everything and anything I could do to stay positive and hopeful. I would write encouraging Scripture passages or thought-provoking quotes on a note card and place it in my car or on our bathroom mirror to see it each morning. We went on many date nights and did things spontaneously and just-for-the-fun-of-it, knowing that with kids, that would one day change a bit. I continued working with children, at a preschool and at dance lessons, because I knew that was good for me; they always had a way of making me laugh and bringing joy to my life. I sent cards to friends, thanking them for their friendship. We got more involved in our church. Surrounding ourselves with the people and things we loved enabled us to focus, yet again, on other things...as we waited and waited...patiently on the Lord's timing.
And just to be clear, let me take a moment to say that I did not handle everything about our situation perfectly or anywhere near perfectly. I'm sure many of you reading this can think of an example where I wasn't kind or friendly or talkative to you. As you interact and love others, remember that we don't always know what's going on in someone else's life; there could be a perfectly good explanation for something. And I'm sure there were times that I was hurting. Deeply.
If you're stuck in a rotten situation, let me take a moment to let you know that "I'm sorry." Life sucks. It's not easy and was never intended to be easy. Facing infertility and the longing for a child head-on, I experienced for the first time how deeply God loves me. Some people might look at our situation and think "how could you love a God that didn't allow you to carry a child." I don't have the perfect answer. But what I can tell you is that God is a loving God. He knew this path was the best path for us. It's not going to be a perfect path or an easy path, but it's the right path for me. I can either be bitter about not carrying a child, or I can embrace it. I can either hate God, or I can accept His plan for my life.
Infertility, like many other life situations, can. be. redeemed. Beautiful things can come out of it. May you remember today that your situation can be redeemed, too.
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