Infertility

No “L”

Several years ago I made an after-Christmas sale purchase that had been on my wish list for some time. It was a set of mantel stocking hangers in the form of a word, with a hanger beneath each letter. There were two sets left, one that said “PEACE,” and one that said “NOEL.” We only had three stockings to hang, so I thought “PEACE” was overkill. Since we knew we would try and have/adopt another child, I went with “NOEL” and tucked away the set for the following year. What a pleasant surprise it was to open our Christmas rubbermade containers eleven months later and remember that we finally had a lovely way of displaying our handmade (thank you mother-in-law!) stockings. But after a few days of admiring the display I realized we had a big problem.

The irony was profound. Every time I looked at our fireplace the bold letters shouted at me that there was, in fact, no “L.” The “L” was empty. It was empty the next year, too. And the next. What seemed at first like the perfect decoration turned into a painful reminder of what I thought was missing in our home.

Several years ago I started a Christmas journal in which I annually document important events from the previous year, Christmas wishes for the family, and updates on what was going on in our lives . Here are some excerpts that demonstrate what that “L” stood for in my mind during that time:

2009: I’m trying not to think about how far along I would be now, had the miscarriage not occurred in May. Several friends are due in January. It hurts, but I know God has another plan.

2010: We have a potential adoption coming up in March or April…wondering if it will actually happen… It’s all so exciting–we just pray that we’re able to bring this little boy home as planned. (See “A Change of Heart – Part 1“, “A Change of Hear t- Part 2“, and “A Change of Heart – Part 3” for more on this story.)

2011: No baby yet. Everything that has seemed like a remote possibility has fallen through. Sometimes it seems like it will never happen. I try not to think about it and just keep busy.

My wise husband, who only just recently found out that my fireplace mantel had been haunting me for several years, has pointed out that the pain inflicted by the one-letter-too-long mantel set was self-imposed. Why had I not spent the money earlier when there was more to choose from and just purchase “JOY”? After all, did our family of three not bring us great happiness? Did our cups (and stockings!) not overflow with just one child? Focusing on what I thought was missing was my own choice. Even though we had hopes and plans to adopt, our family may very well have been complete at three. “JOY” may have been the perfect word for us. He’s so right.

As it turned out, the Lord did eventually grant us another child. Last month I received an email from my dear mother-in-law regarding this baby: “Shall I make a stocking for J or did you have something else in mind?” she asked. Another stocking? I had completely forgotten about the “L”! The thought of draping a newly sewn, bright red stocking on the final hanger of the mantel set brought tears to my eyes. Although the court finalization for the adoption won’t occur until January, for me the seal that makes J truly part of this family is the ceremony of hanging that stocking. The word is complete.

It’s true that I should never have bought that set. We were not promised another child. Though we did not deserve him, God in His grace granted our request and gifted us J. The “L” no longer stands for longing, but rather reminds me of another Son, sent to an undeserving people as a gift, to hang his blood red body on a tree. I am reminded that the true meaning of “NOEL” is  “Christmas”. The Child who was promised has come so that I might have “L”ife.

Even though the hangers are full, I pray that in some way–though we have no idea how–God would eventually put us in the position to need “PEACE” in our family at Christmas time, too. Is this evidence of discontent again? Greed even? I don’t think so. Just a realization that the more “L”ove we experience, the more we seem to have to give away. But on the advice of my husband, I’m not buying any more stocking hangers until we really need them.

The Blitz

Seasons of waiting test the mettle of our faith. We, the baptized in Christ, want to believe that God is merciful and just, but doubt, that heaviest of enemies, threatens to bend and break any wimpy trust we may have in God’s tender care.

“He has forgotten you,” the devil whispers as you sit, childless.

“Yes,” Satan’s minions chide, “see how He does not answer your prayers?”

We look at the empty nursery. We check the mailbox for the adoption referral which has not come.

“He does not love you,” the demons sing in unison. “You are not worthy of His blessings.”

How heavy is the weight of Satan’s lies against our already creaking buttress of hope!

     How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
     How long will you hide your face from me?
     How long must I take counsel in my soul
          and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
     How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

     Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
          light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
     lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
          lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. *

Then, when our fortress of defense collapses and our confidence in God’s love is but a dusty pile of rubble and debris, the blessed blitz comes.

A move closer to family. A house within walking distance from church. A bag of grocery gift cards from a congregation. A retired couple who cleans and paints my house. A maple tree in my front yard that dyes its hair a fiery orange in late October. A jumping hug from an-almost-too-big-to-snuggle nephew. A trip with Mom. A latte with Dad. A holiday spent with beloved grandparents. An unexpected visit from a new friend. A phone call from an old one. A lunch date with sisters. A couch set gifted from strangers. A new book idea. A neighbor widow who needs my love and attention. Even a child in a manger. Granted, not the child for which I prayed, the one I think I want, but the very One I need.

Stand back with your lies, Satan! God has not forgotten me. He does answer my prayers. He does love me. I may not be worthy of His blessings, yet He gives them to me, anyway.

No, He blitzes me with them.

     But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
          my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
     I will sing to the Lord,
          because he has dealt bountifully with me. * Psalm 13 (ESV)

 

Treasure Trove

Last year, we HRTB ladies hosted a writing contest during the season of Advent. Many of you submitted posts on the topic “Advent and Barrenness,” and we shared seven of our favorites on this website.

Today, these posts still ring true. I find myself reading them over and over again, feasting on your words of encouragement and exhortation, thanking God for the gift of fellowship we all have in Him.

In case you missed these treasures the first time around, here they are again:

The following Advent posts from last year, penned by two of our own hosts, were not contest submissions but are just as worthy of revisiting:

Campaigning

I am on a campaign to reclaim the words which have been abandoned in our present society’s fertility lexicon.

Even when it makes people uncomfortable, even when it sets me apart from the world, I am going to continue using the word barren in place of infertile, child in place of embryo, and blessing in place of burden. 

Why? Because these are the words God uses in Holy Scripture when talking about procreation. These words mean something to me as a baptized Christian. They communicate the truth about life and death in Christ, and they acknowledge the Creator who wonderfully formed me in my mother’s womb. These words even work a miracle in me: they preserve and sustain my faith in the One who has closed my own womb when the world’s lexicon would have me despair.

So, I am going to speak and write these words frequently, even if they seem archaic or naive or politically incorrect or whatever.

I am Katie Schuermann, and I approve this message.

A Little Pun

Have crazy hormone treatments turned you into a roasted beet?

Do your eyes turn bloodshot when the gravity of your circumstances brings you to tears?

Are you red with embarrassment when you have to explain the vocation you currently hold?

Are your surgical scars still rosy?

Are your sins of envy, despair, and self-centeredness covered with the blood of Jesus?

If you answered yes to most of these questions, then you can consider yourself one of…

                              The Red Barren

Well Said

A long time ago, we talked about this, and not too long ago we talked about this.

Diane Lamberson, a lovely licensed clinical social worker I met at the “Caring for the Barren” conference in Houston last weekend, said it this way during one of our sessions:

“The platitudes we offer to a person who is grieving are an attempt to alleviate our own anxiety when we are uncomfortable sitting with someone else’s pain.”

Aha!

The Great Getaway

Okay.

I know that many of you won’t come out for presentations on barrenness that are open to the public, because you don’t want other people to see you cry.

But what if those other people were just like you? What if you could get away for a few days and retreat to a safe place with other barren women* for a time of rest, refreshment, and fellowship in Christ?

We are thinking about hosting a retreat called “The Great Getaway” for you, but, before we do, we want to make sure you actually want to come. Are you interested? If so, send us a quick message through the Submit a Question page and let us know your name, email address, location, and whether or not you would be able to travel somewhere in the Midwest.

It’s time to come out of hiding, don’t you think?

* Maybe you suffer from barrenness or secondary infertility. Maybe you are struggling through the grief of a recent miscarriage. Maybe you are wrestling with the legal paperwork of an adoption or silently waiting for your foster child to bond with your family. Maybe you have lost your husband and wonder if you will ever have the chance to be a mother. If any of these situations apply to you (and you are a woman), then you are invited.

I Am Waiting

I am waiting for Advent to begin, that blessed season of repentance when we in the Church reflect upon our need for a Savior.

I am waiting with Mary for the Child that has been promised to me, the Perfect One who exchanged my sin for His blessed righteousness.

I am waiting for the arrival of my dear friend’s adopted little girl, the little elephant whom we have been praying for and anticipating for seven, long years.

I am waiting for my godchildren to grow up in Christ, praying that God would preserve and sustain them in the one, true Faith unto life everlasting.

I am waiting for deliverance from my affliction, thanking God that I am medication and injection-free at the moment.

I am waiting for a child of my own, knowing full well that I may never have one.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus, for I am waiting.

Stop Fretting

For those of you out there who are still trying to figure out what God’s will is for you as a barren woman/couple so that you can carry it out, here is yet another reminder of what that phrase really means:

“Now that is the will of God which Christ both did and taught. Humility in conversation; steadfastness in faith; modesty in words; justice in deeds; mercifulness in works; discipline in morals; to be unable to do a wrong, and to be able to bear a wrong when done; to keep peace with the brethren; to love God with all one’s heart; to love Him in that He is a Father; to fear Him in that He is God; to prefer nothing whatever to Christ, because He did not prefer anything to us; to adhere inseparably to His love; to stand by His cross bravely and faithfully; when there is any contest on behalf of His name and honor, to exhibit in discourse that constancy wherewith we make confession; in torture, that confidence wherewith we do battle; in death, that patience whereby we are crowned; — this is to desire to be fellow-heirs with Christ; this is to do the commandment of God; this is to fulfill the will of the father.”               Cyprian (ANF 5:451).

You see, it’s not about whether to adopt or try and fix the reproductive system. It’s not about whether to do foster care. It’s not about domestic versus international. This is all adiophora (things neither forbidden nor commanded). Do what makes sense to you, what you’re financially and physically capable of and what is ethical. God’s will has to do with what Jesus did, perfectly, in our place, because we are incapable of fulfilling it.

“Thy will be done…”

Rest assured that it was. It still is. And it will continue to be.

So stop fretting and just make that decision.

A Spoonful of Sugar

I was Mary Poppins for a week.

I blew into town on a nor’easter to care for two children. I pulled excessive items out of my bag. I administered spoonfuls of sweet stuff. I rode on a carousel. I drank tea amidst lots of laughter. I sang songs with a British accent. I even said supercalifragilisticexpialidocious backwards.

(Oh, yes. I did.)

What a blessing and joy to be able to fly in at the drop of a hat to help out other parents in their vocations, to laugh and spin and jump and sing with little people, to hug and console and discipline in the stead of others, and to fly back out on a swift wind towards another adventure.

I always wanted to be Mary Poppins, and God, in making me barren, made it so. That definitely helps the medicine go down.