Grief

Telling Mom and Dad

Mom and Dad are two of my greatest blessings, and I love them dearly. They have always been my strongest supporters. Mom helped me study lists of words for school spelling bees. Dad sat beside me at the kitchen table as I struggled to divide fractions. They prayed with me before bed each night and sent me to school with the words, “God be with you.” I knew they loved and supported me. They also encouraged my brothers and me to talk openly with them. Mom and Dad were always willing listeners and encouraged us to share our thoughts.

Sadly, my parents were the hardest people to tell when it came to discussions surrounding my barrenness. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As I was preparing for my laparascopy, Jerome suggested calling my parents to let them know what was going to happen. I dreaded that call; I didn’t want them to know anything about it. Why was I so scared, so apprehensive? I was ashamed and embarrassed. I thought I had let them down. They had been waiting for grandchildren, and I hadn’t come through for them. I felt that I had disappointed them, even though I knew this could never be true.

I wanted to tell my parents that I was pregnant, not that I was barren. Thanks be to God for Jerome. He held my hand as we started that conversation. I don’t even know what we said anymore. I know that I cried. Even though those early talks are now blurred in my mind, I can confidently say that my parents’ love for me never wavered. I knew that they were still going to love and cherish me unconditionally.

Sometime after our initial barrenness talks, my mom shared that she didn’t know what to say or do. I recall her saying, “You have to tell me how to support you because we haven’t gone through anything like this.” Mom was right. This was new for our family, and none of us knew what to say or do. Mom knew, though. She loved me; she told me she cared. Our family is still learning how to talk about barrenness. I don’t think it will ever be easy because it will always hurt. However, God gives us family members to share the burden. There is great joy in being a daughter, for I know that I am a child of God. In my darkest hours, I could recall that I am the child of parents who love me, even though I may never be a parent myself.

Dear sisters, it’s hard to talk about barrenness. We’ve not heard conversations about it before, so we’re charting new territory. It’s frightening to say aloud that you’re barren. Know this, though. Your family loves you. Your value in the family does not depend upon the size of your family. You are God’s child, and He loves you as you are. I regret not telling my parents sooner about our struggles with barrenness. They knew we were hurting but wanted to respect our privacy and our wish to share things when we were ready. I had neglected to let my parents love and care for me in my grief, but God gives us family to care for us and to carry our sorrows.

When you’re ready, I encourage you to share your barrenness with your family. Yes, it will be hard, very hard. The book He Remembers the Barren is an excellent way to start the conversation. Katie states beautifully the hurt, the pain, the grief, the hope, the joy that we have as Christians who live in the Lord. Her words become your words as you struggle to verbalize your barrenness. And you’ll never be alone in your barrenness. We, your sisters in the family of Christ, are praying for you.

Caring for the Barren Woman – Take Three!

Rebecca Mayes and I are planning to hit the road in April in hopes of meeting YOU. We will be presenting on the topic “Caring for the Barren Woman” at Concordia University Chicago, Concordia Theological Seminary, and various churches in Michigan and Indiana. Won’t you please come out and see us? Location and presentation details can be found here.

If you would like any of the HeRemembersTheBarren.com hosts to present “Caring for the Barren Woman” at a church near you, please let us know via the “Submit a Question” page on this website.

We can’t wait to meet you!

Pep Talk

It’s not a pep talk we give ourselves. It’s not a mantra we repeatedly say in meditation to achieve some kind of inner peace. It’s not a pop psychology trick we employ to convince ourselves that everything is really okay when it isn’t.

It’s simply the truth.

It’s the reality of life in Christ.

It’s the life-giving Word to which our faith responds in feast or famine, in clear water or hurricane, in fruitfulness or barrenness.

So, baptized child of God, let me say it to you again: All things work together for your good.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died – more than that, who was raised – who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,

‘For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:18-39; ESV)

Baby Showers and Baptisms

Question submitted: How have you made it through going to baby showers? It’s difficult for me. My younger sister’s baby shower is coming up, and I am nervous about going because I don’t want to start crying in front of everyone.

A baby shower. A baby’s baptism. Meeting a new niece or nephew at the hospital for the first time. My participation in each of these events is a painful reminder to me of what I lack. I’m not the guest of honor at a baby shower. I don’t get to dress my baby in a family heirloom baptismal gown on her special day. I’m not the one who has recently birthed a child at the hospital.

I never realized how emotional these events were until the baptism of my brother’s first child. There was no way I was going to shed any tears on that special day. I thought I could be strong enough to mask my own disappointment. I wanted to be the parent who was bringing my child to the baptismal font, but I wasn’t going to let anybody see the pain on my face. I had told myself that this day was about my niece and the special gifts she was being given. What I didn’t tell myself was that it was okay to grieve as well.

Meeting my niece was precious. Holding her made me feel special. The hardest part, though, was when my daughter Joanna got to hold her new cousin. She swelled with pride and beamed from cheek to cheek. That’s when I had to fight back the tears. This picturesque moment should have been for my baby.

I had squelched the urge to cry; I decided that would be the only time I’d weep over the weekend. I didn’t think the Sunday morning baptism would affect me. What a lie I’d told myself. When the congregation began singing the baptismal hymn, the flood gates opened. I was crying because I hadn’t been gifted a child. I listened to the hymn and begged God to forgive my selfishness. As my niece was baptized, I heard the sweet gospel news that she was a forgiven member of the family of Christ. I was forgiven, too.

The focus of this day was not about my personal desire for a large family, nor about my barren womb. It was about God’s gift of a child. In my sinful pride, I had looked at the birth of my niece as a punishing reminder of what I didn’t have. Once I recalled God’s blessings of a child to my brother and his wife, then I could share in their excitement. All children are gifts from the Lord, and they should be celebrated. My niece had become my sister in Christ; that was reason for rejoicing.

Before my niece’s baptism, I told my brother that I might not always appear joyful. It was not meant to anger or remove myself from the family. Rather, it was going to be hard because I was mourning my own loss. He understood and was thankful that I could articulate my feelings to him. Share your feelings with your sister. Let her know that you’re nervous about the shower. You love your sister and want to be part of her special day; tell her that you do rejoice with her. And if you cry that day, it’s okay. Your sister will know that it’s hard for you, but she’ll appreciate even more your honesty.

During the shower, you will find yourself comparing your situation to your sister’s; this is normal. Remind yourself that this is a time of God’s blessing. Find ways to occupy your mind. Help write down the gifts; offer to help with refreshments. These activities will help keep you focused on the blessings God is giving.

Yes, baby showers and baptisms are difficult times. However, they are also reasons to give thanks to the Lord for His generous love. Children should be celebrated for what they are – gifts. While you may not have children of your own, you are God’s child. You are a gift to your parents and to those who love you. That’s something to celebrate.

Is Our Family Complete?

Erica Heinecke reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that though we may feel our present family size is incomplete, we are presently complete in Christ’s family:

I wonder if I am capable of writing such an article [on barrenness] because with two children, I am obviously not barren. I do know, though, that I have struggled mightily with what God desires for my life in regards to our family size. Is our family complete? Every month, I wait to see what God has in store for me. It is frustrating. My cycles are not regular so I am left hoping that maybe this time, I might finally be pregnant again. Maybe this time, it is not my crazy body, but a gift of God. I am itchy with anticipation until I feel confident enough in the time lapse to actually take a pregnancy test, followed by the nervous dance that lasts as little as 3 minutes, but no longer than ten. My feet start to drag when no pink line is there to quicken my steps. Again, it is a disappointment in my book, but that is because I forget that God is writing my book. He has written my name in His book, the Book of Life. Lord, not my will, but yours.

I look forward to the time when we are released from this world of pain, of longing, and of sadness. I rejoice that one day I will celebrate with the angels and all the saints. I find comfort in the truth of God’s Word and in knowing that there will be a day when those I know who have experienced truly awful losses will be at the feet of God with the children they lost in miscarriage and tragedy. We will sing together, as the angels heralded the shepherds, “Glory to God in the highest!” Our family will be complete, and perfect.

As we live out our time on Earth, we struggle to find peace and contentment. I feel like a baby would make all the difference in the world to me; but that is not the truth. A baby is my desire, but only Jesus Christ, the One born of a virgin, would change the world forever. He came to live a perfect life and then to sacrifice Himself on the cross before rising again in victory over death. In His family, I am complete. Advent reminds me of Whose I am in baptism; I belong to this Baby Christ, to the Holy Child.

Erica Heinecke

At Home in the Waiting

Kristen Gregory reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that there is joy amidst our grief:

I’m reading Jayber Crow, a novel by Wendell Berry; I read and enjoyed it five years ago. The peaceful cadence of his writing is good reading in winter, I think. A line stuck out to me this time–one I hadn’t even noted in my previous read:

“This grief had something in it of generosity, some nearness to joy. In a strange way it added to me what I had lost. I saw that, for me, this country would always be populated with presences and absences, presences of absences, the living and the dead. The world as it is would always be a reminder of the world that was, and of the world that is to come.”

Reading it this time, immediately I reflected upon my own personal loss. I’ve not experienced true barrenness, but I have felt something akin to it: I have buried my firstborn child. I have known grief beyond explanation; wanting to die so I didn’t have to feel another minute of it; the shame of hating God for taking away what I thought was my deserved right–to be a mother; and so many more feelings that I will never be able to put into words, things that I couldn’t even explain to my confessor when I went for private confession and absolution. But things God knows.

And then I read the quote again. In the three years since Vivian’s death, God has given me enough peace to see the meaning of this beyond myself. Or maybe I can only understand it because of this suffering He has allowed. In grief there is joy…I’ve no idea how. I have no advice or sweet words on how to live through loss or grief. But somehow there is a joy in grief.

I think that is why I love the Advent season. I feel at home in the waiting. The sadness over our present losses to sin, death, and the devil; and yet our proclamation that more is to come. Our hope isn’t in the lives we live now or the children that we have lost or never had, but in His real promise: release from darkness, forgiveness, healing comfort, His death for you, and life eternal.

Vivian, among other things, is my reminder of the world that is to come. Each year I hold more joy in my heart than grief (could it be the healing effect of other children God has given us–some who have lived and some who have not?); but Advent especially reminds me that I have not expected too much from my God–I have expected far less than He has promised.

Kristen Gregory

Let It Be To Me

I continue to marvel at Mary’s response to Gabriel’s unbelievable message: “…let it be to me according to your word,” (Luke 1:38). She didn’t know what those words really meant, did she? She couldn’t have known. She couldn’t have foreseen the heartache she would have to go through as the mother of the Messiah, who was destined to suffer and die. Yet the Holy Spirit moved her to speak with great confidence in her calling as the Lord’s servant, chosen for an honor unlike any that had ever been given before. A great honor, to be sure, but one that was accompanied by great suffering.

Can you speak these words from Mary as you experience the unexpected, the disappointments, the losses? Throughout our lives we all experience those proverbial “closed doors” where it seems pretty clear that going in the direction we had planned is not according to God’s plan. This news does not come from a heavenly being, reminding us first to “Fear not,” but rather from physicians or social workers who are simply stating the facts.

“The cancer had spread more than we thought,” says the surgeon.“We had to do a hysterectomy.” But I’m so young! It doesn’t seem possible that I’ll never be able to give birth. I never dreamed this would happen.

“It doesn’t appear that any growth has taken place in the last month,” says the OB. “I’m so sorry.” No! This was the answer to our prayers. Why would God give us this miracle and then take it away? It’s not fair.

“We have just received word that all referrals are on hold indefinitely,” states the email from the agency. “We will notify you when we have more details.” Not another hold up! We’ve been through this before. This could add even more years to our wait.

The shock. The denial. The anger. The fight. The exhaustion. The surrender. Then, finally, the prayer: “Let it be to me according to Your word.”

Using Mary’s statement as a prayer can be both a spiritual and physical struggle for some. At times we may even feel the need to physically grasp hold of something as we speak it so as to brace ourselves for the realization of all our fears. Our sinful nature attaches such hesitancy to this concept of full submission. Why is that? After all these years of the Lord’s providence, generosity, faithfulness, and care, why have we still not learned our lesson?

For me it’s getting a little better. You know why? I’ve been practicing. Every week on Sunday morning I hear the true, inspired, life-giving words that speak of the Lord’s promises to me and I practice this prayer—this time with all boldness and confidence.

“In the stead and by the command of our Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins.…” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“I believe in the…resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“…given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.”

Let it be to us all according to His Word!

An Eternity Secured

Comment Submitted: I suffered my third miscarriage in September. It feels like we have come to the end of trying to have our own family. (I have no children, but he has a son from a previous relationship.) I am fearful of what our future holds. My husband is dealing better with the miscarriage than I am. He has faith, but I don’t.

I’m very sorry to hear about your losses. If you’ve been following our website, you may know that I also suffered a miscarriage less than three years ago. Along with the emotional turmoil you are experiencing, I pray your body is medically healing from this physical loss as well. I hope you have a trusted physician that can give you sound medical advice, and perhaps a counselor and your husband’s pastor to care for your emotional and spiritual needs.

Your fears about the future, in the wake of losing another child, are completely normal and natural. Thoughts about “what could have been if this child were here now” can sometimes play like a broken record when we are at our lowest. Thinking about due dates, anniversaries and other “milestone would-have-beens” are sources of tremendous earthly sorrow. And you have had to go through this three times. You are grieving yet another dashed hope. Concern about how this will affect your future and your relationship with your husband is completely understandable.

While material goods, and even friends, family and spouses are certainly beneficial and can comfort us in ways large and small, the eternal consolation we can always cling to is to know that Jesus went to the cross and defeated sin, death and Satan so that we can live forever in everlasting blessedness, righteousness and innocence. Yes, we will still suffer on this side of heaven. Yes, loved ones will die. Yes, we will doubt and despair at times. But even this is okay. You might think I’m crazy to say so, but hear how one dear pastor explains our hardships, or crosses, in his own words:

“Crosses are not signs of God’s disfavor. They come upon God’s children from His mercy. Sometimes they come as a holy discipline, as chastisement, to keep us close to God. But they always come for His glory. And they almost always come unexplained, with no apparent cause. Simply put, they come as part of the chaos and death that is all around us in this fallen world.

But we abide in the grace of Christ, the one who forgives the guilt of our sin, even our most grievous, stupid and ugly sin. And in the meantime, crosses, even when they are a result of our own actions, are endured in faith. They teach us to pray, to remain fully dependent upon God’s mercy. They teach us that we cannot make our own way through this world or to the next. They teach us that Christ is the way, that we live not by sight but by faith, even as we pray that they be removed. We recognize our crosses as coming from God for our own good, but we name them as evil things, realizing that some of our crosses will only be removed when we are transferred to the Church Triumphant (heaven).” (Pastor David H. Petersen, The Lutheran Witness, November 2011)

You are a precious child of God, Sister. May you recognize this even now in your suffering. Miscarriage is nobody’s fault but a result of our fallen world. While none of us have a crystal ball and know what the future holds this side of heaven, we do know that our eternal futures are secure. When in doubt, just refer back to John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him will not perish, but have everlasting life.”

You mentioned in your comment that your husband has faith, but you don’t. It reminds me of the father who was uncertain of whether or not Jesus could help his afflicted son and said, “I believe! Help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24) Even the most faithful Christians utter this very same hopeful-yet-doubting phrase daily in their hearts. And that’s okay, too. God takes our doubting hearts and minds and turns them onto His Son, our crucified and risen Savior–even (and especially) when we don’t want to. On behalf of the HeRemembersTheBarren.com hosts and community, I pray this is so for you. Otherwise anything we may have to say will likely be of little comfort. With the help and grace of God, may you be encouraged and assured in the thing most needful in all our lives, Jesus, in the midst of the turmoil.

We can rest in the knowledge and comfort that our Triune God is the Author and Giver of life. He did not create death, but destroyed it in Jesus! Just as your three children were known before the very foundation of the world, so too, God knew you! He not only calls you to hear him in His Word, but gives you immeasurably more through his many masks of mercy—in your husband, faithful pastors, doctors, friends, family and so on. In these many gifts, we are reminded that our eternal salvation is secure in Jesus. You are in our thoughts and prayers as you continue to bear these crosses. But be comforted that you do not bear them alone.

Writing Contest

HeRemembersTheBarren.com is hosting a writing contest!

Tell us in 600 words or less about “Advent and Barrenness.” The winning post, chosen by our panel of hosts, will receive a free copy of He Remembers the Barren. The top three finalists will also see their posts featured on our website.

Simply compose your post in an email and send it to katie@katieschuermann.com by December 20th. The winner will be announced on Christmas Day.

Please be sure to include your name and shipping address in the email.

Throughout this Advent season, we remember that Jesus Christ, the Son of God and second person of the Trinity, took on flesh for our salvation. We look ahead to His second advent on the last day. O come, O come, Emmanuel!

Capris and Consolation

There’s an outfit in my closet that I refer to as my miscarriage outfit. I know, it sounds morbid, doesn’t it? But after all this time it has just become a casual term for one of my favorite things to wear. There’s my “cozy-Sunday-afternoon-in-the-winter” outfit, my “chic-going-on-a-date-with-my-man” outfit, and there’s the “miscarriage” outfit. The phrase brings no tears, no pain, just great endearment towards the family members who gave it to me at a time when I needed them and somehow they knew exactly what to do for me.

The week following the miscarriage, my dear mother, sister and sister-in-law all drove three hours to come stay with me, share my grief, and make me feel loved. They brought me chocolate, took me out to eat, and bought me the most comfy, casual (but cute!), capri sweatsuit outfit that I’ll probably ever own. They didn’t try and get me to count my blessings or make promises that they couldn’t confirm would be fulfilled. They were just there—listening, loving, simply being present. Two out of the three women had themselves lost children in the womb (one of them several times). They knew what to do. Not everyone does. I was very blessed.

The next time you hear of a miscarriage, consider whether you can do more than just send a card or make a call. Think about what women in general (and this friend in particular) enjoy, what makes them feel comfortable and loved. Delicious food, cozy outfits, visits from people they love, a good laugh, an inspiring movie. Maybe you aren’t close enough to the person or in a position where you can just drop everything and be with her, but a thoughtful gesture or gift can make a woman feel as if she’s just received a comforting embrace, even if you can’t be there in person.

So thank you mom, Anne, and Amy. Every time I pull on those capris and zip up that sweatshirt I am reminded of the love that my Lord showed me through each of you, who selflessly rushed to my side when you knew I was in pain. I haven’t forgotten.