Men

Am I Normal?

Question Submitted: My husband thinks I should not be so upset about our infertility. He would not mind if we never had a child, so he thinks my grief is not normal. I can’t help but be upset. I am not sure what to do.

You are grieving a death of sorts – the death of a lifelong dream, the death of your family line, and the death of children you have never had. That kind of loss does not come easily to anyone. It is no wonder you feel upset.

That being said, please be careful not to hold it against your husband that he does not share your grief. He is not the same person as you, and it is okay for him to have his own, honest response to all of this, even when that response is different from your own. Your husband’s absence of grief does not automatically mean he is cold-hearted; it just means that he, for whatever reason, is not grieved at this time.

Keep telling your husband how you feel. Don’t force it on him, but don’t hide it from him. Be honest. Help him to see that though you two may not react the same way to your infertility, your feelings of grief are just as valid and real as his absence of them. In the end, the important thing is not that you both feel the same way about your infertility but that you both love and support each other regardless of your respective feelings. You both are on the same side, after all, and you get to share in each others’ joys and sorrows. And, when you both inevitably fail in that sharing, you can speak the words of forgiveness to each other because Christ has completely forgiven you.

I know you may feel alone in all of this. Please, go talk with your pastor. He is Christ’s man there for you, and he can remind you of the promises God has made to you in His Word to work everything in this life for your eternal good. You need to be hearing those promises, especially in your grief.

Also, remember that your Lord Jesus has promised to always hear your prayers (Psalm 6:9; Proverbs 15:29; 1 Peter 3:12). You can trust Him to support you in your grief and sorrow, even at those times when your husband may not.

A Father’s Grief for His Barren Daughter

Barrenness affects everyone in our families, possibly no one more than our parents. In our barrenness, they, too, are barren. My father lovingly penned this, and he gave me permission to post it for all the other dads out there who may be grieving for their barren daughters. He wants you to know that you are not alone.

“Father of the Tried” by Bob Roley

I have just been sitting here looking at the picture on the cover of the book He Remembers the Barren. Such a haunting picture that seems to cut clean to your soul. How much pain must be associated with barrenness and the loneliness that follows? How can you console someone with such grief as depicted in that picture?

Since I am a man of 60+ years with married children and grandchildren, you would think that I would not find this such a haunting subject. I come from a large family with many brothers and sisters, and my mom comes from a large family. As a result, I have several aunts, uncles, and cousins. I remember growing up and realizing that several of my cousins were adopted, but, being young and living in an era when no one really talked about that kind of stuff, I had no idea why. I am now much more knowledgeable about problems of infertility and what kind of an impact they have had on my aunts, sisters, nieces, and, yes, my daughters. I am also very aware that those medical issues may have been passed down through my mother’s side of the family.

So, why am I haunted by my daughter’s book and the picture on the front of it? My daughters, who have been the pride of my life and for whom I would gladly die, are now faced with this pain. Even those with children suffer along with the ones who can’t have children. We have had so many years of fun times, family outings, adventures, and just the joy of being together, and we still do. So, why must such near-perfect times be strained by such pain? Is this all my fault?

I am no theologian, no great Lutheran thinker, not even a good Christian, but I do know this: Sin is the problem, and God has taken care of that for me. I keep remembering the part in C.S. Lewis’s book, Till We Have Faces, where the main character wants to ask God all these questions, and, when she finally gets to stand before God, all she can do is look at His face and realize that before Him there are no questions.

I look forward to the day I get to stand before God as one of His children and realize there are no more questions.

Is It Just Me?

That’s what I wondered when my tears kept flowing. I was ready for another child, and nothing was happening. I had checkups with my doctor, did the tests, ate the right foods, marked the calendar faithfully – and still nothing. I was angry, sorrowful, and confused. I felt alone in my grief. My husband and I wanted another child, but there was none. I felt like crying all the time.

Why isn’t my husband crying, too? Is it just me?  Doesn’t he care? The obvious answer was yes, but I was so overwhelmed with my own emotions that i didn’t see it. He was grieving as well. Yet I was angry that he wasn’t displaying more emotion over the situation.

Finally, my tears dried enough to tell him that I was sad, angry, confused, bitter. Praise God for a husband who cares! As I shared my myriad of emotions, he listened patiently and held me. It was then that I remembered that I do not walk this road alone. He shared his concerns and fears and sorrows, too. We cried together.

And then – we prayed. We took our concerns to the Lord. He already knew our needs and sorrows, and yet we told Him anyway. We prayed for peace, that God would grant us another baby while we waited. We prayed for other couples who were struggling with infertility. We thanked the Lord for the child we already had. We prayed that the Lord’s will would be done, and that we might know and do His will.

Is it just me? No, never. Jesus Christ knows my sorrows, and He will always be there right beside me.