I recently sat with my mother at a kitchen table on vacation, weeping in my grief at having no children. “I may never be a mother,” I confessed.
All my mother said was, “I know.” And I was comforted.
I was comforted, because my mother did not try to change me or my situation; she did not try to minimize my suffering by labeling it or explaining it away; she did not offer empty suggestions for how to fix my barrenness; she made no false promises that God would someday give me a child, for, outside of giving me the Child Jesus to save me from my Sin, God has made no such promise to me in His Word. My mother simply acknowledged my burden and then sat with me to share the weight of it.
This is when a barren woman will be comforted: in the safety of someone’s watch who believes and confesses that we are okay in Jesus, even when we suffer. A barren woman finds comfort in being reminded that there is no need to fix that which Christ has already made whole. I feel most loved when my friends and family let me be barren and remind me that the death in my womb cannot snuff out the true Life given to me at the font.