Infertility

PCOS P.S.

Gina is someone I look up to in so many ways, not only because she is an extraordinary woman who bakes decadent, gluten-free desserts, but because she doesn’t hide from the crosses God has given her – and she encourages me to do the same:

PCOS is so hard to live with and deal with, not only because of the infertility but because all of it is the pits. At this point in my life, I can look back and see that my PCOS was/is a cross to bear that at times I threw on the ground and despised, but, as with all crosses, it continues to be bearable only through Christ and the love of Christian friends, my spouse, and family. From this perspective, I can tell you that I am in part shaped by the suffering of PCOS and, as with all suffering, God can use it for the good of both the sufferer and those around her; but I can only see that now that I am 47 and reconciled to my barrenness, and I still only glimpse this here and there.

A friend of mine and I were talking about the wounds and scars of life and we finally decided that we can’t hide them and we can’t repair them. We can only let them leak God’s mercy to others, that same mercy He showed us.

Navel-Gazing

Grief is different than self-pity, I think, though the line between them can get a bit hazy.

Grief happens, while self-pity is manifested.

Grief comes to a person, while self-pity comes from a person.

Grief is born out of suffering, while self-pity is born of our own sin.

Grief is endured, while self-pity is relished.

Grief moves us to call upon the LORD, while self-pity looks to our own navel for comfort.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus (Hebrews 12:2), dear sisters, not our navels.

Advice from a Criminal

Have you ever noticed that the criminal hanging on the cross next to Jesus doesn’t ask the Savior of the world to save him from the torture of the cross? He doesn’t ask Jesus to reduce his suffering. He doesn’t beg the Lord to relieve his own pain or to rescue him from the death that is before him.

He simply asks Jesus to remember him when He comes into His kingdom.

“We are receiving the due reward of our deeds,” the criminal says to the other crucified criminal who mocks Jesus, “but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then, he turns to Jesus in faith and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” (Luke 23:27-43)

Pastor Schuermann explains it this way in a recent sermon:

As the thief on the next cross – himself seemingly hopeless – turns to Christ, hope makes a request: “Remember me. Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” There is hope.

This is how hope speaks. He asks for nothing but to be remembered by Jesus. He doesn’t ask to be saved from the cross, to be spared his suffering, to be granted a last-minute pardon, as the other [criminal] did. When death is unavoidable, hope embraces death and prays, “Jesus, remember me.” He who dies with these words on his lips, dies well.

We, the barren, have the same hope. We can embrace the cross of suffering and pray along with the criminal, “Jesus, remember me.”

And the good news is that He does.

And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Faith ‘n’ Family

Thank you to KFUO and Andy Bates for talking with me on the “Faith ‘n’ Family” program about barrenness as it relates to the Second Commandment.

You can listen to the program here.

Something That Is Better

Bo Giertz writes that when it comes to prayer, Jesus said “we should be persistent and not give up. We should compare ourselves with the man who, in the middle of the night needed to borrow some bread, and knocked on his neighbor’s door. God isn’t like the neighbor. He doesn’t mind being inconvenienced, but it’s a part of His fatherly way of rearing and teaching His children that He allows us to wait. Maybe He does it just so we learn to pray by being forced to think about what we pray for and being compelled to repeat what we have said in an effort to examine the contents. We have to be sure that what we pray for really comes from the heart. Then, we have God’s promise that He opens the door for us and that He hears us. We might not get just what we prayed for, but it will always be a good gift and just what we need most. Jesus doesn’t say that God gives us what we hoped for, but that He gives the Holy Spirit to those who pray to Him. He gives us the Holy Spirit when we pray persistently and faithfully and come to God with all our needs. The Spirit influences us and transforms us. Sometimes we stop praying about something because we understand that it wasn’t God’s will. Sometimes we discover that we’ve already received something that is better. Sometimes, as we pray, we see a completely different way of looking at what worried us. Or maybe God helps us in some other way–but He always helps us.” (To Live with Christ, 347-8)

More Advent Waiting

Advent is a season in the church year that is easily dismissed. It’s a time of waiting. We, in the church, also use these days before Christmas to prepare our hearts for the arrival of the Christ-child. Our sinful hearts, minds, and bodies need to be turned from our sinfulness and turned to God for His grace and mercy.

I don’t know why children haven’t been borne to me. After years of marriage, I’m ready to bear a child. I’ve prepared myself mentally and physically. Still no baby. In my self-pity I gripe to God for not giving me what I want, specifically the gift of a baby. After years of waiting and no specific diagnosis, that gift may never come come from my womb. What a hard, sad truth to accept.

And so I continue to wait. The Church reminds me to repent and turn from my sinfulness. My ways are not God’s ways. The Church reminds me that I wait for Jesus. So – does that mean that Christ’s arrival will make my body fruitful? No. The fruit of Mary’s womb is Jesus, and He makes me whole. I’ll not be whole in the physical sense here on earth. Rather, Jesus makes me whole through His death and resurrection. My body will always be sinful, thus, my body will not be perfect. However, God uses His means of grace to unite me with Jesus. He alone is perfect.

Being barren, I may never be finished waiting for a child. That longing may never go away. However, I no longer have to wait for Jesus to come. He came 2000 years ago and redeemed me. I wait, instead, for His triumphant return to take me to Himself in heaven.

O, Christmas Tree

Sometimes, decorating our home for “the most wonderful time of the year” feels a bit like putting on make-up with nowhere special to go.

What’s the point?

We have no child to delight in the colors and smells; no child to clap and cheer when the lights get plugged into the wall; no child to feel the toes of the stockings hanging from the third and fourth stocking holders we purchased years ago when first we “planned” for a family; no child to beg to light and extinguish the Advent candles every night; no child to wake up each morning and run to the Advent calendar to remove another window.

No child.

But, I have a husband, and he loves coming home to twinkling lights and cinnamon smells; I have a church full of selfless, hard-working elders and directors and administrators who might enjoy stepping through my door for a party or two; I have nieces and nephews and young family friends who might come over to share a cup of Advent cheer.

So, I unroll the lights and the garland and all that sparkles and shines. I pull out the spinning tree and the Advent wreath and the candles.

And I set out our nativity and ponder and rejoice, for I, the barren woman, have every reason to celebrate this holy season. My Hope and Comfort and Peace and Life and Salvation and Child is come to me.

How and When to Give

Question Submitted: I can’t praise your book highly enough, but I’m not always sure about how/when to give it to people. Sometimes, people are not in a place where they’re ready to talk about barrenness, or they may feel that others giving them resources is intrusive. It’s such a sensitive topic. Do you have any suggestions for how/when to give a copy of He Remembers the Barren to others?

I know what you mean. He Remembers the Barren is not exactly the kind of gift you want to wrap up and put under the tree for your loved one. Who wants to open a package and find this inside instead of something from Bed, Bath, and Beyond? Or who wants to pull a book with this cover out of a stocking in front of family and friends? Let’s all say it together: awkward.

Yet, I still think He Remembers the Barren is a good gift worthy of giving, because it reminds all of us that God’s love and favor is not dependent on our becoming mothers but, instead, on Jesus becoming our sin on the cross so that He might give us His blessed righteousness. In Christ, we are freed from the burden of sin and the curse of death that comes with our wretched barrenness; in Christ, we are made worthy of God’s love and favor; in Christ, we have true hope whether we are mothers or not.

So, please consider giving your loved one a copy of He Remembers the Barren, but use some of your James Bond-esque stealth in the giving. Here are some suggested tactics (Q and M approved, of course):

Read the book yourself, so that you know what your loved one is going through and can better love her through her grief and suffering.
Give the book to your loved one’s parents, siblings, pastor, etc. for the same reasons.
Make sure your church library has a copy of the book on hand as well as your local public library.
Write a note to go with the book (i.e. “This book is not a label or a judgment. It is a great big hug from me to you. I read it, and it helped me know that God remembers me even when I suffer. I thought it might help you, too. I love you.”)
Give her the book in private and at a time when she does not need to be around people for awhile. You can mail it to her home, or you can hand it to her wrapped and tell her to wait until she is alone to open it.
If you two already have a history of openly discussing her barrenness, then give it to her in person when it is just the two of you. And tell her what she means to you.
Give her the book without any expectations on your own part, and saturate the giving in prayer.
Once you give it to her, don’t bring it up. Wait for her to talk about it or not talk about it.
Don’t be offended if she doesn’t read it for awhile. Depending on what phase of the grief cycle she is currently experiencing, she may want nothing to do with it at first. She might even be embarrassed or offended. Still, won’t it be nice that the book will be there for her when she is ready for it?

I have had people turn shades of green at the mere mention of my book. The thought of reading something about the very thing they loathe makes them sick to their stomachs, because their present grief is too poignant. Such is the way of suffering, so I don’t force the book on them. Still, I try to give it to them, because I think the book really does offer comfort and empathy and relief amidst the pain of suffering.

Thank you for caring enough for your loved one to do what is hard. She is blessed to have you in her life.

A Hot Mess

I broke in my workout a couple days ago.

I was holding a high plank, staring at the black, cork floor as my sweat made a shiny puddle under my nose. My arms were shaking.

“C’mon, Katie,” the instructor knelt in front of me. “You’ve got this.”

I had just fatigued my shoulders doing renegade rows and double kettle bell push presses, and now, after completing a pushup, I was supposed to walk my hands backwards until I stood bent over my own feet, then walk my hands back out into a high plank and do another pushup. Over and over again. This was only the fifth one in the first set, and I was already about to fall flat on my face. There was no way I could do three sets.

“You can do this.”

I felt a familiar panic overcome me, a desperation of spirit that comes with the Law, with the knowledge of the limits of my own, fallen, diseased flesh. I had felt it before. I had felt it as my doctor filled out a request for diagnostic mammograms four years ago; as my menses started a week late when I was sure I was pregnant; as I rocked back and forth on the floor during a pain episode related to endometriosis; as I put on the hospital gown before my surgery; as I leaned dizzily against the gym wall while I was on Lupron.

My flesh always fails.

The puddle under my nose went blurry as hot tears mixed with my sweat. I gave in to my panic and leaned back on my heels, too embarrassed to look the instructor in the eye. My face was already red and shiny from my workout, so it took a second for her to see the tears.

She leaned back on her own heels. “What’s going on?”

“I just feel so weak.”

I don’t remember what she said in response. I know she was encouraging, and I am sure whatever she said was true. It’s just that there was so much I wasn’t telling her. The pain of endometriosis. The fear of it coming back. Every day of my childless life being a reminder of my failing flesh.

My tears weren’t really about a few measly pushups. My tears were about the grief of this creation groaning in response to sin. My sin. And it overwhelms me sometimes.

In those moments, there is only one thing to do: turn in faith to Him who has mercy on sinners.

“Christ, save me. Christ, forgive me. Christ, come quickly.”

Then, wait in hope for the LORD to deliver me from my failing flesh on the Last Day.

And, while I’m waiting, I might as well try to do another pushup.

One More Reason

As I count my blessings this year, there’s one more reason for me to be thankful. My salvation does not depend on my ability to bear a child. No, my salvation has already been won. Jesus Christ secured my salvation by His death and resurrection. Thanks be to God!