Infertility

A Change of Heart – Part 1

Living in a large city has been an eye-opening experience for my family. We had previously been surrounded by primarily white, middle-class communities. Not anymore. We now live among people of various ethnicities and cultures, many of whom are living in poverty and do not have traditional family units. I see this almost every day that I leave my house. Single moms wait at bus stops with several children in tow.  I see high school girls walking home after school, several with bellies protruding, evidence of the life they carry within. At first it was hard to see these girls day after day and not feel a great deal of injustice. It appeared that lack of self-control and poor decision-making were being rewarded by God when my husband of 14 years and I continued to wait for a child. It felt unfair.

We are on the Caucasian waiting list with our adoption agency. The decision to have our names on the Caucasian list as opposed to the list that includes all races was not made flippantly, nor have we resolved to only have white children in our family. Because we have a choice as to what list we go on we picked the Caucasian list, but we’ve always agreed that if an opportunity to parent a child of a different race was dropped in our lap we would certainly be open to this. And then, one warm and bright October morning, the opportunity arrived–not in our laps, exactly, but on our doorstep.

“Keisha” rang our doorbell with the intent to ask some questions about the “for sale” sign in our front lawn. She and the large family she was living with were looking to move out of their small apartment and they wanted to remain in the same neighborhood. She loved our house and had been admiring it for several weeks. Although I would not normally have invited in a perfect stranger to take a tour, for some reason I felt very comfortable with her and asked if she’d like to take a look around. I was thrilled that someone was showing some interest in the place. We hadn’t had many lookers.

Keisha was sweet, with a wide smile that brightened the room and starkly contrasted her dark skin. She had a calm, confident presence about her, perhaps accentuated by her tall, brood figure. In our conversation during the tour it somehow came out that our son had been adopted and we were hoping to adopt more children. Keisha was intrigued  by this fact and commented on how well Caleb seemed to fit into the family and how content and cheerful he was. She soon left with the realtor’s number and mine in her hand and I prayed that the experience might move us a little closer to getting this house sold.

Not twenty minutes later I received a phone call from her. We exchanged the initial greetings and then, after a quiet moment of hesitation, she blurted out, “I’m pregnant. And I’ve been thinking about adoption. You were so kind to me when I was in your home and your son seems like he is so loved and so happy. I really feel like you’re the family I’ve been looking for.” I almost dropped the phone.

To be continued…

True Comfort

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.

Keeping Watch

I had let my guard down too soon.  I cried.  I grieved for that which was not given to me.

Thanks be to God for you, my dear sisters, who kept watch with me.  You listened and didn’t try to offer a rosy outcome.  You hugged me and cried with me.  You gave me space to let it all out.  You reminded me that I am God’s child, and you prayed for me.  You sent me a baby elephant.  Thank you.

It Does Get Better!

I have heard it many times from women who are past the age of fruitfulness in the womb, who have never been given the gift of children: “I often feel that I am not the person that most ladies going through the thick of the infertility journey want to hear from, since I represent the person who no one wants to wind up being!”

“But I want to hear from you,” I usually whine. “What you say comforts me!”

So, indulge me a little and read Joanna’s joyous account of what life is like “on the other side.” I think you’ll find yourself cheering and rejoicing with me in God’s good gifts at the end:

I’ve realized a few things with age. As I look back on how my experience of infertility has changed with the years, I want to let you in on a little secret from further on down the road: In God’s mercy and timing, it does get better.  While you’re in the throes of waiting for children (or waiting for more children), life can seem somewhat brutal. But when the door of fertility finally closes without any living children, the world doesn’t end. In fact, here are just a few of the many ways I’ve found that things got better; actually, much better after fertility passed:

I stopped putting life on hold

I spent the vast majority of my earlier years putting my life on hold while waiting for children. Don’t get me wrong: I was walking with God, and trying to do my best to profitably fill my days, but there was a part of me that was just, well, on hold. I wouldn’t consider taking a professional position because I thought I might get pregnant and would need to quit. I remember a period of about 10 years when I wouldn’t take an aspirin if I had a headache, or a cold remedy if I had a cold because I thought I might be pregnant and would hurt the baby. I planned my days around “What if’s” instead of “What is.”  When the fertility door closed, I found that there is a whole new freedom to fully engage in the life that is, and not in the one that was only hoped for. And it’s a great place to be!

Friendships became much easier

When I was younger, the world seemed to revolve around having babies. My friends were having them, and I wasn’t, and it made me feel very left out of the loop. I remember one year I helped hostess eight baby showers! Conversations at social gatherings inevitably revolved around pregnancy and birth stories, and I never had anything to say. Then, once the initial flush of pregnancies were past, the women begin to coalesce around their children. Their lives revolved around play dates, and then soccer games, and quite frankly, I never could really find a way to fit in. But it has gotten better. Once my friends’ children began to leave home, they began to come back to an equilibrium. They may be moms, but that started to no longer be the center of their days or their perceived identities. They have more time, and we have begun to find we have more in common. In the meantime, though, I learned to cultivate single friends, and older friends, both of whom are a source of great joy to me!

I’m free from the constant hope/disappointment cycle

If you’re an infertile woman, I’ll bet you’re intimately familiar with the scripture that says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Prov. 13:12) The desire I had for children was never fulfilled in the way that I hoped. It may sound really strange to say this, but finally being free from the hope of having children is liberating. Why? Because when you’re not constantly hoping for something, there is no corresponding disappointment. I’m free to thankfully enjoy my life…just the way it is.

I’m free from obsessing

After the fertility door closed, I was finally free from obsessing about what I should or shouldn’t be eating; about whether or not to try this or that fertility treatment; about whether or not to adopt; about what I might be doing wrong. And I was free from constantly being on the lookout for a way to fix whatever was wrong. What a relief!

People stop intruding

In my experience, when you hit your forties, people kind of stop intruding. You stop getting the “When are you going to have kids?” questions. You stop getting the “Why don’t you adopt?” questions. You stop getting the “If you would just relax/adopt/try-this-or-that-home-remedy/pray more/have more faith, you would get pregnant” advice. I still get asked whether I have kids, and I still get asked why we chose not to adopt, but other than that, it eased up a lot.

My personal life went back to being personal

Let’s see, how to say this? Your marital relations come out from under the microscope, and go back to being the loving expression of intimacy that they were meant to be. ‘Nuf said? 😉

I realized that fruitfulness and fertility are not the same thing

“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

“For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.  (2 Pet. 1:5-8) 

In the kingdom of God, being fruitful is not equivalent with being fertile. Being fruitful is simply an outgrowth of abiding in Christ, and it’s available to everyone. Fertility can be an expression of fruitfulness in Christ, but it is only one expression. Being fertile doesn’t guarantee that you’re fruitful. Only abiding in Christ brings fruitfulness. And the fruit that we bear in Christ will remain for eternity. I think I always knew this with my head, but now that my fertility is past, my heart has begun to really grasp it, and let me tell you — it’s a very good place to be!

My relationship with God changed

When the door of fertility closed for me, my relationship with God changed. It stopped being so much about me trying to find ways to get Him to do what I wanted, and it became more about me trying to find ways to do what He wants. I still have a long way to go in this, but it’s very freeing to begin to live life on His terms instead of trying to get Him to order my life on mine.

So what did I find on the back side of the infertility door? Depression? Emptiness? Loneliness? Despair? Heartache? Actually, that’s not what I found at all. By God’s grace —  and in His timing, I found joy, peace, laughter, love, life, and fruitfulness. Do I occasionally feel wistful about what I haven’t been given? Sure, there are times when I do; but most of the time they happen because I’ve decided for some reason that I want myself to feel that way (and I’m guessing I’m not the only one who’s ever done that). The overwhelming majority of the time I feel incredibly thankful for what I have been given, and filled with anticipation at the wonderful adventure that God has laid out for me each new day in the second half of my life! The Lord is good!

Joanna Barnes

Rest

Is it the weekend yet?  After a busy week of cooking, cleaning, teaching, playing, and more, I’m tired.  I’ve replied to emails; I’ve “liked” pictures and posts on social networks; I’ve answered phone calls.  It’s time to slow down and relax.  When I rest, my mind and body aren’t actively doing anything.  I’m  recharging and refreshing.  I’m resting.

When having difficulties trying to conceive a child, I met with my doctor several times to discuss what could be done.  For a while, there were some daily measurements, some things to mark on the calendar, and some anxious waiting.  It was stressful.  Were the numbers reading correctly?  Was the test administered properly?  There was anxious anticipation while waiting for test results.  Undesirable answers were met with dejected emotions.  When all morally acceptable possibilities had been exhausted, it was time to be done.  I was tired of all the directions and requirements.  I was worn out.  It was time to rest.

The Word of God provides the best rest.  I need nothing more.  In the Holy Word, I hear of my sin and my need for a Savior.  In Holy Baptism, I am made God’s child.  In the Holy Absolution, I am pardoned of all sin.  The body and blood of Christ are given to me for my cleansing.  Nothing is required on my part to make these things come true.  I am simply the recipient.

That’s true rest.

A Quiver of One


Psalm 127

1 Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.

2 It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest,

eating the bread of anxious toil;

for he gives to his beloved sleep.

3 Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

4 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth.

5 Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!

He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

[The Holy Bible: English Stand Version]

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On our wedding day, my husband and I read this psalm with the congregation.  It was our fervent prayer that the Lord would grant to us a quiver full of children.  We knew that children were a heritage from the Lord, and we hoped to inherit abundantly.

The Lord has been gracious to us, and we have one daughter.  She brings us much joy, and we know she is a gift to be treasured.  As the years have passed, however, we have not received any more daughters or even a son.  How can this be?  The psalm-writer pens words about a quiver filled with arrows.  Why shouldn’t my home be filled with children?

It is then that I mourn for my daughter.  I’m sad that she doesn’t get to play dress-up with a sibling.  I wonder how she feels about playing alone in her fort.  Is she tired of playing Dog-opoly with her mom and dad?  Does that bother her?  I feel like she must be missing out on sibling experiences – yes, even on sibling squabbles.

However, these worries are ill-founded.  My daughter doesn’t know any differently.  In fact, she has come to embrace her experiences.  She has made all sorts of crafts and read lots of adventure books.  She has learned to sew and cook and help in the garage.  Her activities are numerous and enjoyable to her.

Recently, a friend of hers lamented not having anybody to play with him at the moment.  My daughter replied, “That happens to me sometimes.  There are LOTS of things you can do by yourself.”  She didn’t say that it really stinks to be an only child.  She didn’t bemoan the fact that she doesn’t have a sibling for a constant playmate.  She didn’t mourn over the fact that she has to be creative in her play sometimes.  No, she simply stated how comfortable she is in her own skin.

And so I worry less for my only child.  In her I have a beautiful treasure.  She is a baptized member of the body of Christ.  She has a family full of sisters and brothers, who share the same faith in the Triune God.  The Lord has made her my daughter, and she is a blessing.  If I never receive another child, my quiver of one is still full.

Curiosity or Caring?

I saw them again recently and wondered what their story was. I’m curious. They’ve been married for awhile and I’m assuming they would like a family. I’ve talked to them briefly about our own adoption plans and hoped they might take that opportunity to share with me their desires for children and any struggles they are having. But no luck. They didn’t take the bait.

I was about to approach the topic head-on with the wife when we had a few moments alone, but now I’m glad I didn’t. I realized just before I opened my mouth that I don’t know them well enough yet. I wanted them to invite me into a very private part of their life together (their bedroom, to be exact) and I’ve never even invited them into our dining room for dinner. Yes, I’m concerned about their emotional state. I want to help if they’re hurting. Hey, I’ve been there. I’m still there. But that doesn’t make me an expert who needs to seek out patients to “treat.” While it sounds like I’m just trying to help, I think the real motivation is more curiosity than caring.

If I care about their fertility then I need to care about the rest of their beings as well. Are they enjoying their jobs? What do they do for fun? Where do they see themselves in five years?  What has life taught them thus far? Have things turned out differently from what they expected? What part of their lives bring them the most joy? What was their childhood like? I have a lot to find out. And maybe the subject will come up in the process. Maybe it won’t. But regardless, we’ll be blessed by more friends in our circle. Perhaps my current state in life is making me more aware of people who don’t have children, not so that I can somehow help them, but so that I will remember to make an effort to get to know them and just let the Lord bless our relationship in whatever way He chooses.

Who Are You?
Who do I see when I look in the mirror?  I know the person that I WANT to see.  I want to see a mom to multiple children.  I want to be part of the “moms group” that talks about their children together.  I can sit and think about all the things that I want to be, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am somebody right now.  True, I want to be a mom in a house filled with children.  That hasn’t happened, and moping about it won’t help.  Rather than dwell on who I am not, perhaps it’s time to ponder who I am now… already.
  • I am a baptized child of God.
  • I am a forgiven member of the family of Christ.
  • I am the daughter of Roger and Laurie.
  • I am a sister to Troy and Kirk.
  • I am the wife of Jerome.
  • I am the mother of Joanna.
  • I am an auntie.
  • I am a godmother.
  • I am a neighbor.
  • I am a piano teacher.
  • I am a choir director.
  • I am a friend.
Dear sisters, we are already precious in the eyes of God.  When He looks at us, He sees a dearly loved child.  We rejoice in the privilege and honor of sharing that love with those God has given to us.  Now it’s your turn – “Who are you?”

Here We Come!

Won’t you come out and meet us?

Rebecca Mayes and I, God willing, are getting behind the wheel next Tuesday 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. And – Best of all! – my husband is coming with us. Rev. Michael Schuermann will be available to answer any questions you may have regarding how to care for the barren man.

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!

* Photo by Adriane Dorr