Infertility

Endangered Species

What happens when a girl takes the same drug that men with prostrate cancer take?

Well, she sweats through her clothes. She wakes up in the middle of the night. She cries uncontrollably. She twitches with edginess. She gains fifteen pounds in two-and-a-half weeks. She gets dizzy when she works out. She alarms her doctors with the changes in her cholesterol levels. She feels a strange pressure in between her ears. She loses her right eyebrow- .

Wait, what?!

(Yes, you read that correctly.)

She loses her right eyebrow.

Well, almost all of it. I have fifteen hairs left, and you better believe I am building a game preserve on my face to protect all endangered species. I knew hair loss was a side effect of chemotherapy, but I had no idea eyebrows were fair game. After six months of Lupron injections, the glass is no longer half full; my face is half empty. Thank God for friends who come to the rescue!

IMG_0493

Pain as Poetry

little boy cryingKristi recommended this book, and so I read it.

Rev. Schulz perfectly articulates in his book the very reason a blog like this exists:

My life is lived in the genre of lamentation…

Lament isn’t an inarticulate wail. Lament notices details, images, and relationships. Pain can become poetry. Poetry is our most personal use of words. It is our way of entering deeply into the experience and bringing beauty out of it.

Lament is deeply private, but it can also be deeply public…Lament keeps us connected with reality, and with the deepest of all realities: God. (Schulz, 117-8)

Thank you, dear readers, for reading our laments, poetic or not, and for sharing your own with us.

A Season to Share

Christmas Picture of Mother and DaughterRachel Pollock reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that we all endure suffering and enjoy blessings throughout the year, and we in the body of Christ can be there to share in all of them.

I had to update addresses before I could send Christmas cards this year. There were joyous updates. I added names of friends that got married, had babies, or finalized adoptions. It seemed there were more sad updates. Some of the names I had to remove because:

  • they had divorced or died. The worst was when an entire entry had to be removed because both spouses had died.
  • a father had committed suicide, and this affects his wife/children/grandchildren daily.
  • a child had lost the battle with leukemia.
  • A spouse had died when he seemed way too young to die.
  • they have dementia, and a letter would confuse them.

When I wrote the addresses on the envelopes I reflected on some of the suffering:  

  • those who are single and would like to be married.
  • many couples that are barren or have not been blessed with a sibling for their only child.
  • many families that have experienced a miscarriage.
  • those who the doctor recommends no more pregnancies for the mother’s health.
  • those families that have so many children that being pregnant one more time feels like a burden for them.
  • those with cancer or Parkinson’s or depression. 
  • those that are unemployed or not in a job they really want.
  • families that live very far from extended family.
  • a family with a seriously ill child.

It is even more difficult to write a Christmas letter with updates about our family. What a downer it would be to put in the letter that we have had six miscarriages. I would love to add in our letter that our youngest is actually younger than our four-year-old.

There are some obvious blessings to reflect on as I update the addresses:

  • a mother that is counting the days that she is still pregnant after many miscarriages, and it seems that she will get to rock and hold a little girl in a few months.
  • families that are healing after the death of a loved one or a divorce.
  • families that were able to adopt a child.
  • a family that rejoices because their child is healthy after major surgery.

Our family has many blessings, too. We have many friends and family all over the world to whom we send Christmas cards. My husband is healthy after a major surgery two years ago. We have three healthy sons. Both sets of our parents are alive and still married to each other. We added a brother-in-law to our family last year. We were able to move closer to one side of the family and able to buy a house beyond what we expected. My husband has a good job. We are part of a wonderful church family.

Yet, there are more blessings, still. Each day I thank and praise God that He safely brought me to another day to live out my baptismal life in Christ. We should not despair even when thinking of all the suffering of our family and friends. Whatever happens in our lives, we are God’s children and God will work it for our eternal good. God will provide and care for our every need. My address list will always have suffering on it because we live in a sinful world. Jesus has conquered sin, death, and the devil. We press on towards the goal of eternal life in heaven. Because of all the suffering on earth, we long for heaven even more.

“Be near me, Lord Jesus: I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever and love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,

And take us to heaven to live with Thee there.”

LSB 364:3

 

Rachel Pollock

“My Suffering Is a Blessing” Contest Winner

Crucifix on a Wall

Blessed Epiphany!

Thank you for taking the time to reflect on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” with us this holy season. It is a privilege to be on the receiving end of your thoughtful words (so much so that we are tempted to host more writing contests throughout the year), and we greatly appreciate your participation in such ventures. It truly is an honor to read your submissions.

We’d like to share five posts with you this week, starting today with a post written by our contest winner, Heidi Dawn Sias. Congratulations, Heidi, on winning a free copy of He Remembers the Barren, and thank you for allowing us to share your words of wisdom and encouragement below.

Grateful,

Your HRTB Hosts

It’s that time of year again: a time for gifts, a time for family gatherings, a time for Christmas cookies, a time for singing carols, a time for New Year’s parties, and a time for children, as they have “visions of sugar-plums” dancing in their heads…whatever that means. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, right? It’s so much fun to watch children’s eyes light up when they see the lighted Christmas tree with gifts strewn beneath it, and welcome another New Year with hearts full of hopes and dreams. But what about families struggling to make ends meet; what about families who can’t be together; what about families who have lost someone this past year; what about the twenty families in Connecticut who will look at the gifts they bought for their children this year with tears streaming down their face; what about the family in our community here who eagerly awaited their newborn daughter to arrive around Christmas but attended her funeral instead; what about our friend’s extended family member with six-month-old twins, who lost one twin to SIDS just four days before Christmas; what about my sister-in-law whose one-year-old son died one month after Christmas last year after spending his entire life in the hospital; what about me….entering my final child-bearing years and still without a child of my own to hold? These things hurt deeply and we ask, “why?” We might begin to look at the New Year with anxiety wondering what will happen next. Sometimes this time of year reminds us even more of the suffering we’ve endured instead of being the most wonderful time of the year.

But Christmas is about Jesus. It’s not about sugar-plums. Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us. That’s Christmas. That’s what we celebrate. That little baby came to take on my burdens and to die on a cross. That little baby is my comfort in suffering. My suffering draws me back again and again to the foot of the cross, weary and weeping. Jesus lifts up my head and points me back to His manger, back to His cross, and says, “I did that for you.” He calls me to himself and says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28) I can rejoice in my suffering “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Rom. 5:3–5) It’s a perplexing phrase: “rejoice in my sufferings.” But I can, because in the end suffering gives me hope. Hope in Christ, the only Hope. Of course, I cry in my sufferings too, but I can still rejoice in knowing God’s love has been poured into my heart. He has made promises that I can count on. He weeps with me, wipes away my tears, and says, “come to me so I can comfort you.” I receive Him in faith, I rest in Him, and I cling to the promises He gives me in His Word; promises of forgiveness, life, and salvation. Hope for a future with Him. Jesus came for me. Jesus came for you. That’s worth celebrating no matter what sufferings we endure. It’s worth celebrating at Christmas, and it’s worth celebrating all year round. My suffering is a blessing because it points me to Christ, and He is all I really need.

Heidi Dawn Sias

The Sarah Syndrome

God promised childless Abraham that He would provide him an heir, a son of his own, and that Abraham’s offspring would number as many as the stars in the heaven. Abraham believed the promise of the LORD, and God counted it to him as righteousness.

Sarah, on the other hand, struggled to believe the promise.

She looked at her eighty-plus-year-old husband and her own, barren womb and saw only impossibility. How could God provide an heir through their cockamamie, one-flesh union? No, if they were going to have offspring that numbered as many as the stars in the heaven, they were going to need to take matters into their own hands. They were going to need to find a solution outside of their marriage union – outside of God’s promise.

But, what to do? IVF was not an option then. There were no fertility specialists to whom she could submit her husband’s semen for analysis. Plastic hadn’t been invented, yet, let alone those syringe-y thingies that could shoot Abraham’s seed closer to the target. There were no sperm banks she could consult for finding a tall, dark, and handsome brain surgeon to father her children. Nope, surrogacy was the best answer she could devise, so Sarah gave Hagar, her Egyptian slave, to her husband for impregnating.

And, he did.

The result? Marital trouble, broken relationships, agony, chaos, suffering, grief, and Ishmael, a wild donkey of a man who would beget a whole people born into slavery.

That’s what happens when we believe in the work of our own hands rather than in the promises of God. We create more slavery – slavery to sin, slavery to self, slavery to idols, slavery to the consequences of our actions, and, in Sarah’s case, literally more slaves.

I think we all suffer from Sarah Syndrome to some degree. When we grow restless in our barrenness, when we wait on the LORD for deliverance from our affliction, that is when the symptoms begin to show. The anxiety. The coveting. The self-entitlement. The spouse-loathing. The disbelief. We start visiting doctors who advocate for practices that break commandments of the LORD. We succumb to the advice of the roaring women around us and try to be fruitful and multiply outside of the one-flesh union God designed for procreation. We start looking around for some Hagars to give us the children we want and think we deserve.

And then, like Sarah, we despair when the work of our hands comes to fruition. For, we the baptized know deep down inside that God will give us a child if it be according to His will – not from a petri dish, not from a surrogate, not from the work of our own hands, but from the mysterious, one-flesh union God designed from the beginning of time or from the gift of adoption He so perfectly demonstrates for us in His Word. If God does not give us the gift of children through these blessed means, then we can be assured that it is for the best. He is working our childlessness for our good, and we can confidently rest in God’s guarantee of that goodness as He proclaims it in Scripture. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the the name of the Lord.”

Maybe you have already acted out on your Sarah Syndrome and feel ashamed. In Christ, sister, be at peace and take joy in this good news:

In spite of all of Sarah’s disbelief, in spite of her meddling, in spite of her laughing and lying, God still kept His promise to her and to Abraham. God visited Sarah years later, long after her menses had ceased, and she finally conceived and bore Isaac, a son and heir from whose family line would eventually come Jesus, the Savior of the world.

In keeping His promise to Sarah, God was actually keeping His promise to save you; and, in believing this promise, God counts it to you as righteousness.

reg_1024.newnormal.mh.072312

Not a blessed, one-flesh union in the bunch.

A Church’s Love

See the red doors?If you could walk through the red doors of this church, you would see my church family. These people love me, my husband (the pastor) and our daughter. They also love our daughter in China, whom we have yet to meet or hold. When we started the adoption process, our church family was excited. Many were eager to share baby clothes and any equipment we might need. As the days dragged into years, they have cried with us as they realized that our wait was getting longer. They comforted us with their hugs when our referral was delayed. Our church family reminded us time and again that we were remembered in their prayers. They have told us they love us, no matter the size of our family. Recently, they demonstrated their love for our family in a huge way.

Knowing that we are getting closer to traveling to China, our church family wanted to show their love and support by sponsoring a church benefit to help cover our travel expenses. Thus was born the project “Nachos for Maria.” Our church members prepared and served a wonderful nacho bar for our church family and the surrounding community. In conjunction with the meal, a silent auction was held. The bakers got to work and prepared lots of goodie trays. Businesses generously offered some wonderful gifts. Crafters were busy crafting fun items, and others made fantastic theme baskets.

The afternoon was very exciting for Jerome, Joanna, and me; we were able to share our joy with others, who had been waiting alongside us for so many years. At the end of the day, the totals for the benefit were shared, and we were overwhelmed. After I had dried my tears several times, I jokingly told Joanna, “We won’t have to swim across the ocean to bring your sister home.” One of our church members said, “Isn’t it incredible what a bunch of small-town farmers can do?!”  I replied, “I thank God for each and every one of our small town farmers.” These “small-town farmers” are my family and not just because they’ve done a benefit for us. They have shared our sorrows, grief, and tears while we waited to add another child to our family. They have prayed for our family and cared for us in ways they don’t even realize.

I am blessed to worship each Sunday with my church family. I confess the Christian faith in the Triune God with my family. I kneel at the Lord’s table to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ with these family members, young and old alike. I am eager to introduce our new daughter to her extended family – our church family at Trinity Lutheran Church. They have hearts that overflow with love for one another, and I am blessed to love each one of them right back.

Tattling Trees

20071230-2014My husband and I recently attended a Christmas party hosted by a lovely couple in their autumn years of life. As the wife showed me around their festive home, she pointed out the various ornaments on the trees they had decorated in each room.

“We made all of these ornaments by hand.” She pointed to the tallest tree in the living room. Each ornament had been wrapped in a lush fabric and adorned with colored beads and shiny ribbons. The effect was regal and folky at the same time, like a Russian ballroom before the revolution.

“My students gave me these,” she smiled. This tree was smaller and shinier, teeming with tinselly holiday fare from the fifties and sixties.

As my hostess showed me everything that twinkled and glowed, I noticed something. None of the trees in the house graced ornaments made by beloved daughters or sons. I suppose I have a nose for this kind of thing, because my tree is absent of such fare, as well. I took a risk.

“Do you have any children?”

“No,” she said rather flatly.

“We haven’t been blessed with children, either.”

She turned around to look at me. “It used to hurt really bad, but then…”

I watched her search for the right words. “But then you realized you have life to live?”

“Yes.”

I looked around at her trees filled with memories of students, friends, parents, siblings, and time spent with her husband. Life to live, indeed.

Advent Anticipation

watching and waitingFor seven years my husband and I have been watching and waiting. We began the adoption process way back in 2006 and were hopeful that our family would grow by one in the year 2008. We slowly watched the monthly calendar page turn. Then we changed the calendar to a completely new year. We have grown weary with all of the waiting.

The Lord has granted a referral for a little girl in China. We were certain that 2012 would be the year for her to join our family. However, it will not be so. Instead, the Lord is having us wait even more.

Yes, more waiting. We have been waiting on government agencies to give their approval of this match. We have been waiting for social workers to sign the appropriate papers. We have been waiting for a lot of people to do whatever their title allows them to do. Waiting is tiring.

During that time, I have grumbled and complained and blamed God too many times to count. I have been on my knees, begging Him for a child. I have longed to be on my knees, looking eye-to-eye with our new daughter. I have also been on my knees in prayer, repenting of my self-righteousness. I have been on my knees, receiving the Lord’s Body and Blood for the forgiveness of my sins.

There is a little girl who will bring joy and tears and laughter into our home. While we suffer through the long hours and days and months (and even years), we pray that we might joyfully receive this little girl. The Lord’s timing is best, even though we don’t understand it. Thus, we watch the mail and anticipate the arrival of the next official document. We wait for our social worker to tell us that we can buy our plane tickets. With joy and anticipation, we pray for our little girl, who is half a world away.

Advent is a season of watching and waiting. Christians, too, can be filled with joyful anticipation. Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will return. He will take us into His arms and take us home some day. Of that we can be certain. Until then, we wait.

“Different, Not Less”

Temple GrandinIn the movie Temple Grandin, Temple is a brilliant young woman, coping with the stigma of autism. She does so in a time when autism was misunderstood. However, Temple is blessed with a loving family, who support her efforts for higher education and understanding by the world around her. At one point in the movie, Temple’s mother wants to enroll her in a boarding high school. Some of the faculty members are apprehensive to accept her. Eventually, Temple’s mother tells one of the teachers that she wants people to know that her daughter is “different, not less.” That quote struck a chord with me.

I am different but not less than the mother whose womb has carried children multiple times. I am different but not less than the mother who takes her beloved brood with her to the grocery store. I am different but not less than the family who drives a 15-passenger van so that their family can ride together.

My world is different than yours but not less. Please don’t think of me as your “barren friend” only. Yes, my world is different than yours, but it is not less. The Lord does not look down on me because my womb is closed. He loves me. He does not treat me any differently than the rest of the world. I am condemned of all my sins, the same as my neighbor. In fact, God’s only Son Jesus died for me, just as He did for the sins of the entire world. I am forgiven of all of my sins, the same as my neighbor.

My name is Kristi Leckband, and I am barren. I am different, not less.