Infertility

Nikusubila

Nikusubila is an African name. It means “hopeful.”

A year-and-a-half ago, I was walking through Hobby Lobby – piddling, really (a.k.a. wandering aimlessly about with no life goal other than to admire hoards of other peoples’ things I cannot and should not own) – and I came across a figurine of a young boy wearing a safari hat. His expression was sweet, like he was watching something of interest across a field, happily forgetting his present task at hand. Just like a boy!

I picked up the figurine and fingered the boy’s round cheeks. I liked the color of his skin, the shape of his scrawny arms and chicken legs. Everything looked and felt just right. He reminded me of…

No! I quickly set the figurine back down. Silly. Ridiculous, even. I did not need a figurine of a boy in my home. I loathe dusting, and this would be just another item to collect dust.

I escaped around the nearest aisle to look at picture frames and candles. Yes, that was safe. But, even as I checked prices on frames and sniffed waxy confections my mind was on that boy. His posture was just so charming and familiar. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbow, and he was resting his right hand on a hip as if he was waiting for someone to catch up with him.

That settled it.

I walked back to the figurine, picked him up, and paid for him at the cash register before I could chicken out. This was more than an impulse buy. This was hope in action.

For, you see, this boy looks like my son. I have never actually met him. I have only seen him in my head and in my heart, but that afternoon in Hobby Lobby I saw him with my eyes.

Nikusubila now stands in his bare feet on my fireplace mantel where I can look at him and keep hoping that, God willing, I may someday catch up with my son.

Getting Outside of Ourselves

We all know the danger of dwelling on our own suffering. All any of us needs to do is take a short jaunt down “Me Lane” to find ourselves right in the middle of dreaded Despairville.

What if we avoided “Me Lane” altogether? What if, instead, we made a hard right turn onto “Neighbor Avenue” and took a trip to Mercyburg to visit our sisters in Christ? Think of what we would find there.

No doubt, we would run into other barren women in need of a comforting shoulder, but I think we would also discover women who suffer in the vocation of motherhood; women who pine for the independence and quietude of our own childless lives; women who suffer physical pain from birthing and caring for their precious gifts; women who fear the very gifting from God which we so desperately crave.

What if we set aside our own suffering for today and spent some time listening to those mothers, shouldering their grief and pain, praying for their strength, and tending to their physical needs? I think we would find great joy in the act of caring for our neighbor. Maybe we would even gain some insight into God’s wisdom of giving and withholding certain gifts from our own lives. At the very least, I think we would find comfort in knowing that we do not suffer alone in the body of Christ.

So, will you take a walk down “Neighbor Avenue” with me and meet my friend Rebekah? She wrote a book on the struggles of breastfeeding, and I cannot recommend it enough. I have never given birth to a child, never breastfed a baby, yet I resonated with the language of suffering in this real-life saga. I think you will, too.

And, c’mon. Just look at that title. You know there will be laughs on this trip.

The Way of Women and Laughter

In my morning devotions, I am reading about Abraham and Sarah. Genesis 18:11 (ESV) says: “Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in years. The way of women had ceased to be with Sarah.” I chuckled when I read the phrase, “the way of women.” I have longed to be in “the way of women” for several years. Upon reading further in Scripture, I learned that Sarah did not give birth to her son Isaac for another 25 years! I guess my elephant wait isn’t so long after all.

25 years! A quarter of a century. No wonder his parents named him Isaac, whose name means “he laughs.” I’m sure that Abraham and Sarah shared a good many laughs before and after Isaac’s birth. God really does have a sense of humor. I’m going to do more laughing.

More Glimpses into a Mom’s Heart

Katie’s blog has helped us all open up the lines of communication about barrenness with our spouses, friends, churches and family members. Following suit, I also sent my mom some questions about her experience having two daughters who struggle with infertility and what it was like to welcome an adopted child into the family. Her words are a glimpse into her heart, which she doesn’t often expose in an effort to be strong for her children. I believe she gives a voice to the thoughts and fears that many mothers have but are afraid to share. Thanks mom, for your honesty, compassion, and encouragement over the years. You’ve had to hold up under the strain of this as well–times two.

Watching both of my daughters suffer in their barrenness has been heart wrenching. There is an actual physical pain in my heart when I think about it. There is no greater joy than to carry a child inside of you and I so want that for my daughters. I want to fix this, I want to make it go away and be better. I’m supposed to be able to do this as a mother and I can’t. I have two daughters that can’t conceive now and I wonder what I did during my pregnancy that caused this. Anti-nausea drugs maybe? There is tremendous guilt at times and yet I know that it wasn’t intentional. I know that God is here with all of us and has wonderful plans for my girls, we just don’t know what they all are yet.

One of the blessings that has come from this experience is that I have become an adoptive grandparent. We got to meet our grandson several weeks before he was placed in our daughter’s home. He was sweet but it felt like we were babysitting for a wonderful little boy. During the two weeks that followed I remember feeling like I did when I was pregnant for my second child. I thought at the time, “Will I be able to love another child as much as I do my firstborn?” I wondered if I would be able to love an adopted child as much as my other grandchildren who were born from my son. The second my daughter stepped into her home with my new grandson it was instant love. I felt this tremendous overwhelming feeling of joy and thankfulness that we had this new precious baby! It didn’t matter where this baby came from, he was ours. I continue to feel this way every time I see him and I am in awe that I can be a part of his life. Thank you God.

I still wish that God would give my daughters a child to carry, but most of all I wish a peace and a contentment in their lives. If they are never able to carry another child I pray that God will give both of my girls a peace about it. They are both trying to adopt (one for the first time, the other for a second) and it has been a long, long process. Why God? Because our babies haven’t been born yet. I am impatient but, “My soul waits on the Lord.”

A Proper Perspective

It’s happened twice now in the past two months. I’m on the phone with a family member, talking about our upcoming international adoption. As we talk, I lament the fact that referrals were not given as far into the month as I’d hoped. The reaction on the other end of the phone line: Oh, I was thinking it’s good that referrals were given at least that far.

Then it dawns on me. I’ve been looking at this from the wrong perspective. Again. I’ve been grieving over the child that is not yet in my arms. I’ve been coveting what has not been given to me. I’ve been accusing God of not getting His timeline to match up correctly with mine. I’ve started another pity-party.

Thanks be to God that He forgives my pessimism, my self-idolatry, my lack of perspective.

Barrenness through Mom’s Eyes

My mom Laurie Schepmann is a caring soul, and it is my fervent prayer that my life might emulate her grace and love. She has never wavered in her love for me as I have journeyed from a little girl into a grown woman and am now dealing with the cross of barrenness. Below is a letter that Mom wrote. I share it with you as a reminder that you are loved as a daughter, whether or not you are a parent.

Dear Kristi,

I do want to say once again that your value or worth or whatever you want to call it has never diminished in our eyes because of your barrenness. The same goes for our love for you. Such a thing would never enter our minds. You are our daughter, and nothing can change our love for you or the bonds that tie us to each other.

I do appreciate how difficult a thing it must be to share something like barrenness when one views it as a humiliation or degradation of oneself. I, however, have never felt that it lessened a person, or more specifically YOU…but, then again, I have not “walked in your shoes.” I understand that there are people who can make you feel that way, though, and the only thing I know is to forgive them for their lack of understanding, pray for them, and move on.

Those who are barren are not lessened in my mind one iota. It is just another one of those things over which one has no control. As always, we support each other whenever we can and whenever we finally REALIZE that there is a need. So often, we are not there for others because we have no idea what goes on in their hearts and minds. Thanks be to God that there is forgiveness for us and that He promises to be with us and help us in all of our needs, though!

It has always been my belief that you handled it very well. Little did I know, though, of the turmoil and pain you endured in private. Because of our desire not to snoop, but rather to wait for you to share any news, if and when you chose to, we said very little. If you interpreted that as not caring, I apologize and feel sorry about it.

We are looking forward to the time when you can bring your adopted child home! Whoever he, or she, may be, we know this child will find welcoming hearts and laps and hugs in our family. My prayers for that child, as you know, have continued from the first time you told us that you were applying for a child! (In anticipation of his/her joining us soon, we’ve already bought him/her a Christmas stocking.) May our loving Heavenly Father, Who knows all of our needs, bring that child to us soon and in accord with His divine wisdom and will; for, He surely knows and loves us more than anyone else. We know that special love through His Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ!

Thank you for opening up and sharing with us and with others, who are traveling that same, painful road. May God bless you for your courage and help many others through you. God works all things for good to those who love Him.

Love,
Mom

Ursula’s Curse

I am having trouble singing in church.

It happens sometimes. I take a deep breath, and my expanding diaphragm rubs up against the forgotten ball of grief buried deep inside my gut. My coward of a diaphragm recoils from the touch, shuddering all music-making air out of my lungs.

I open my mouth to sing anyway – I will not give up this hymn so easily! – but my traitorous throat holds my larynx in a vice grip.

Even my eyes betray me. I can no longer see the words on the page for the two waterfalls spilling onto my cheeks.

But, no matter. I may be mute and blind in my grief, but I am not forsaken in the pew. The Word still prevails through the mouths of my song-preaching neighbors. Freida and Margaret sit behind me, Teresa sits before, and Blake and Jenny sit at my side. Their voices sing loud and clear for my benefit:

A Mighty fortress is our God,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He helps us free from every need
That hath us now o’ertaken.
The old evil foe
Now means deadly woe;
Deep guile and great might
Are his dread arms in fight;
On earth is not his equal.

With might of ours can naught be done,
Soon were our loss effected;
But for us fights the valiant One,
Whom God Himself elected.
Ask ye, Who is this?
Jesus Christ it is,
Of Sabaoth Lord,
And there’s none other God;
He holds the field forever.

Though devils all the world should fill,
All eager to devour us,
We tremble not, we fear no ill;
They shall not overpower us.
This world’s prince may still
Scowl fierce as he will,
He can harm us none.
He’s judged; the deed is done;
One little word can fell him.

The Word they still shall let remain
nor any thanks have for it;
He’s by our side upon the plain
With His good gifts and Spirit.
And take they our life,
Goods, fame, child, and wife,
Though these all be gone,
Our victory has been won;
The Kingdom ours remaineth. *

Thank you, Church, for faithfully singing the Word to me when I am struck silent by my grief. “The Word they still shall let remain,” indeed, “the Kingdom ours remaineth.” Even my double-crossing flesh cannot hold back a hearty, “Amen!”

* “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” by Martin Luther (Lutheran Service Book 656)

Christian Man-to-Man Advice about Dealing with Barrenness

Thank you, Rev. Dr. Benjamin T. G. Mayes (husband of Rebecca), for generously responding to the following question recently submitted.

Question Submitted: Any ideas for barren husbands? This may be harder on me than on my wife. We’re a happy family of 2, but I have rough days missing children we won’t have.

Brother, here are some random thoughts to give an answer to your question. My sense is that men have totally different feelings about barrenness and lack of children. Most men are probably able to compartmentalize the disappointment that they feel when they realize that their family might not include any little ones. We probably are not all the same. As for me, there were times when I did not feel the desire for children. Of course, that’s when I thought it would be easy to have them! We always seem to want what we don’t have, isn’t that true?

I have one son, who is definitely not a baby any more. He has been a major blessing to me and Rebecca, so I’m afraid I’m not in your exact situation. But now, I, too, wish to have another child of my own, and who knows if and when that will happen?

I don’t think anything can take the place of having your own child, just like nothing can take the place of having your own wife. God gives different gifts to different people, but those gifts are unique and not interchangeable. The woman with five kids might be tempted to see those kids as a burden. For us, we feel the lack of children as a burden. We feel that we lack little ones on which to shower our love. I don’t think anything can take the place of those kids. So that is the one major caveat I have to give here. The following tips may not fill the hole in your life and family that you are feeling. But they might help, and they will certainly be good reminders of the truths you probably already know.

1. Katie and her team here have amassed a treasure trove of Gospel comfort for barren families, including you.

2. As I’m sure you know, our primary identity and joy (we must remind ourselves!) should come from belonging to God’s family, having God as our true Father, the church as our true mother (cf. Matt. 12:50; Gal. 4:26), and other Christians as our brothers and sisters. If you are a pastor, you also have children in the faith through your preaching, teaching, and baptizing (1 Cor. 4:15).

3. On a practical level, obviously pursue adoption if you’re able.

4. Since you don’t have kids, you may as well save up some money and splurge on doing some special things with your wife, like traveling or investing in some of the hobbies you both enjoy. I would personally suggest checking out beautiful art and architecture in Germany and Italy! Then, of course, you might also be able to afford being generous to others.

5. I’d recommend becoming a mentor for boys or young men in your area. Many boys have no father figures and really need one. I’ve had the opportunity to become involved in the life of a young man, my godson, who was baptized at our church when he was 8 (now he’s a teenager). He was adopted by his great-grandmother and had no father figure to look up to. So he comes to our house every Saturday night, and we have what you might call a family night, so that he can see how a man should treat his wife, so that we can play games together, and also have time to talk about questions that he wouldn’t feel comfortable asking grandma. It’s been a great experience for me, and for him, too. Maybe for you, spending time with the church’s youth group would allow you to show the love of Christ to young people. It doesn’t take the place of having your own son, but it is a way that someone in your position can truly help a young man and show him the love of Christ. And truly, if the Lord has not blessed you with physical children, showing the love of Christ is more important than having a child of your own.

In summary, I think men probably approach the issue of barrenness with more detachment than our sisters in Christ, but what does detachment really mean? It means that we can compartmentalize our sorrow and put it in a box so that it doesn’t bother us all the time. But it is still there. We pray to God for solace, and He gives solace when and where it pleases Him, not when and where it pleases us. In the meantime, He has given you the best solace in His Son and Holy Spirit (the Comforter!), and at the same time, I think He gives you other blessings and avenues of service that might just be unique to people in your situation.

—Rev. Dr. Benjamin T. G. Mayes

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!