I read the email explaining the fertility paperwork and a thousand emotions bubbled up from within. “This is so overwhelming. I don’t want to do this!” I lamented and tossed my phone onto the ottoman. My husband kindly reminded me, “We don’t have to.” “We do have to! I’m not ready to stop trying, but I don’t want to do this!” Tears filled my eyes and my voice raised with every word.
I retreated to the bedroom crying monstrous tears. Squeezing my eyes shut, I burrowed my face into my pillow as if to will away the pain. It’s so easy for most people. Why is it so hard for us, Lord?
That thought echoed in my mind for some time. I knew all the truths to apply and the thoughts to cast away, but can I be honest? After losing three babies back to back to back, some truths feel less than comforting.…
I’m unsure of how to express all that I feel, but I know you see all that resides within my heart. You see my longings and my fears, my gratitude and my restlessness. Within my heart are the questions to which you alone have the answers. Will you allow our third baby to grow? How long will this baby live? Can I emotionally survive another loss, if you so choose? You know, Lord. And that has to be enough for me. Please, help my heart to rest in you—the Creator and Sustainer of life.
Creator. You are the God who created all things. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for opening my womb and creating life again where death has reigned. I praise you for this tiny life I already love so much, despite my honest and shameful efforts to not grow attached. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of carrying this baby for however many days you have already decided.…
It seems, even before the first sprout sprang from the ground, indicating spring is near, my heart had already begun to dread what follows April showers. It’s not those beautiful flowers which May typically brings, nor is it the warmer weather I fear.
It’s Mother’s Day.
The day where churches worldwide will honor the visible mommas, the ones whose arms or wombs are filled. Many times, forgetting those whose wombs remain empty as they long for children they’ve either yet to receive, or have lost.
Before continuing, I want to state clearly that I truly believe mothers should be honored both on Mother’s Day and all other days. But as we celebrate the observable moms in our life, may we also reach out to the invisible ones and the childless women among us.
It was on this holiday that I first saw the faint line on a pregnancy test, so faint I dismissed it until testing again four days later.…
I held the pregnancy test in my hand and examined it closely. Could there be a faint line? Oh Lord, please let there be a faint line. There wasn’t. It was negative. No baby had taken root in my womb and those supposed symptoms proved to be simply taunting me, giving me false hope that life had begun to flourish where I’d only seen it die.
The day before, my best friend had announced that she was finally pregnant. As I genuinely rejoiced over the little one in her womb, I took my place as the only woman in my church without living children. This negative pregnancy test nearly broke me.
I tread lightly in taking upon myself the term “infertile.” Not because of the shame sometimes attached to it, but because there’s a different set of painful circumstances that a woman struggling to conceive faces. I don’t claim to understand that deep pain.…
The day our first child was due to enter the world. I realize it’s just an estimated date and they’re rarely correct, but it’s one I’ll never forget.
I’m not naive enough to expect that today would be remembered by anyone other than me. Even my husband had to be reminded. It’s not that he doesn’t care, but a due date simply isn’t ingrained into his mind. But due dates echo in the heart of a mother from the moment they’re spoken.
I’ve dreaded this week since June, not knowing what it would hold. I wondered if I’d walk into it with a womb still lacking fruit, or maybe I’d have a bump beginning to show. Little did I know, my “rainbow baby” would come and go before now, leaving me with two storms. But God has met me here today, reminding me that his goodness is triumphant and always shines through.…
Not many women feel led to share the details of their miscarriages. But as I look back on these last few months, I can’t help but share when I see all that God has done. My desire is that it would shine a light on God’s goodness in our suffering and the reality of miscarriage. I also pray that God would use my words to equip women to help their friends and family who may experience pregnancy loss.
I’ll never forget all the emotions I felt that morning. I had already taken a test on Mother’s Day and saw a faint line but wrote it off as defective. But here I stood, 5 days late holding another pregnancy test. I set it down and declared not to look at it until the full 2 minutes had passed.
I paced in the living room as I waited. Would I be excited or pass out in terror of the road ahead?…