My husband, Derek, and I struggled with infertility for about two years before our first child was conceived. The journey began after we’d been married for three years, when a death in our family gave us the desire to see a new life beginning. I started seeking medical advice, knowing that I likely had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) and would have difficulty conceiving. After two years of various treatments and nine months of joyful anticipation, we welcomed our son in June 2007. That season of our lives was challenging, but I’m grateful for the experience because I learned valuable lessons that help me even today.
I hope my insights will encourage those dealing with infertility and educate those unfamiliar with it. I hesitated to write this blog post because I know how difficult it is to hear advice from people with kids if you are struggling with infertility. Everything starts to sound like a platitude. So I’ll do my best to share what’s real – not what’s sugarcoated.
The Significance Of Perspective
During our season of infertility, we attended a church where babies were celebrated in abundance. We were in our late twenties at the time, and many of our friends were announcing pregnancies and births. Some of our peers were already adding a second or third child to their family. It seemed like most activities for women my age revolved around children – play groups, mommy groups, baby showers. I sat in silence at many events because babies were the main topic of conversation and I had nothing to add.
In our church, the pastors often gave thanks from the pulpit for healthy pregnancies and births. They quoted Psalm 127:3, “Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.” On Mother’s Day, flowers were given to all the mothers in attendance. Infertility wasn’t discussed. It felt like a shameful secret, so I kept my pain to myself. I didn’t share with friends what I was going through, and I became increasingly isolated.
After our first child was born, we moved and started going to a church where infertility was often mentioned from the pulpit. Whenever the pastor gave thanks for a pregnancy or birth, he also prayed for those dealing with infertility. On Mother’s Day, he gave thanks for mothers, but also prayed for those longing to be mothers, those who have lost their mothers, and those who have difficult relationships with their mothers. This church had an entirely different response to infertility. If I had been there before my son was born, my struggle would have been a different experience. When we suffer, it’s a comfort to know that other people understand our pain. It gives us the freedom to talk about our circumstances and share our feelings. Our trials become a little easier when we are supported.
Today, (after moving again) we attend a church with many people who became first-time parents later in life. My friends (who are in their thirties and forties) are still having babies. Ironically, Derek and I led a small group Bible study where we were among the youngest adults, but had the oldest child. I sometimes look back on those two years of infertility, and think, “Why was I in such a hurry?” At the time, I felt like I was the only one not having a baby. I thought I was falling behind because my family wasn’t expanding like my friends’ families were. Now I realize that each family grows at its own pace, and there are benefits to both having children early in life and having them later.
The Grass Isn’t Greener On The Other Side Of The Fence
I’ve discussed how new surroundings changed my outlook, but my perspective also changed dramatically after becoming a parent. Before my son was born, I saw families with children through rose-colored lenses. I would watch longingly as parents enjoyed delightful outings with their adorable children – birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, trips to the mall for photos with Santa. Then I had kids, and reality set in. Here’s the truth: those parents aren’t always having fun! They’re wiping noses, changing diapers, handing out snacks, and just trying to stay awake. They are watching with envy as couples without kids come and go as they please, unencumbered by strollers, diaper bags, and little ones demanding to be carried.
It’s so easy to look at someone in another phase of life and want what they have. When I didn’t have a baby, I wanted a baby. Once I had a toddler, I wanted an older child (fully potty trained and able to get his own juice from the fridge!). Now that my kids are older, I want those snuggly babies back. When my boys become teens, I’ll probably want them out of the house, but once they’re adults, I’ll want them to come back home. It’s so hard, but so necessary, to live in the moment and be grateful for the season of life we’re in now. It always helps to appreciate the blessings of the present as we continue to hope for good things to come in the future.
Work In The Waiting
No one likes to wait. But some people handle it better than others. I’m terrible at waiting. I have a hard time shifting my focus off the thing for which I’m waiting and onto something else. For example, if I try to read a book while waiting in line, I have trouble comprehending what I’m reading. When I was struggling with infertility, I spent most of my time focused on the problem. I squandered many hours on the internet, reading infertility discussion boards and researching treatments.
I spent a lot of time in prayer, which was helpful, but most of it was focused on my life’s overall trajectory rather than the current moment. I was very concerned with God’s plan for my life, but completely oblivious to His plan for my day.
I wasn’t working at the time because I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. We had just moved for my husband’s job and it seemed like a waste of energy for me to start a new job, only to quit when I became pregnant. In retrospect, I suppose I should’ve gone to work. I could’ve brought home a full year’s salary before we finally conceived. But at the time, I thought being at home would help me prepare for parenthood. I thought I would do a bunch of fun homemaker stuff, like learn to cross-stitch baby samplers and make bread from scratch. Truth be told, I was watching a lot of TV and scrubbing my already clean house. I didn’t devote myself to work in the waiting. Years later, I was kicking myself for neglecting to read parenting books and failing to improve my cookie decorating skills! Making better use of the time can turn a season of waiting into a season of growth.
Only God Can Make It Happen
Female infertility can be treated. Male infertility can be treated. In-vitro fertilization (IVF) is a wonderful option for many people. But when it comes to conceiving a child and bringing a new life into this world, only God can make it happen.
Even the most atheist doctor will agree that pregnancy can’t be guaranteed by any medical treatments or particular circumstances. (IVF has a success rate of less than 50%.) Even when everything goes according to nature’s plan – the woman produces the egg and the man delivers the sperm – the couple only has about a 25% chance of becoming pregnant. It seems to me that God makes the final decision.
So why doesn’t God make it happen? That’s the question I wanted answered. Now, as I look back, I see that I shouldn’t have questioned God’s motives, but my own. I could’ve asked myself this question that I read online recently:
Are you troubled more by the failure to conceive or by the absence of children?
If I’m being 100% honest, I was troubled more by my failure to conceive. I desperately wanted a child, but even more than that, I wanted control over my own life. Infertility is one of many tools God has used to teach me how to release my desire for control and trust His guidance in my life.
My struggle with infertility is in the past, but it’s an important part of my story. I hope sharing my experience will benefit someone who is walking that journey today. If you or someone you love is dealing with infertility, you may find these resources helpful:
RESOLVE The National Infertility Association
