Secondary Infertility

All Depends on Our Possessing

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When with sorrow I am stricken,
Hope anew my heart will quicken;
All my longing shall be stilled.
To His lovingkindness tender
Soul and body I surrender,
For on God alone I build.

Well He knows what best to grant me;
All the longing hopes that haunt me,
Joy and sorrow, have their day.
I shall doubt His wisdom never;
As God wills, so be it ever;
I commit to Him my way.

If my days on earth He lengthen,
God my weary soul will strengthen;
All my trust in Him I place.
Earthly wealth is not abiding,
Like a stream away is gliding;
Safe I anchor in His grace.

“All Depends on Our Possessing,” Lutheran Service Book, 732 s.4-6

First Officer

Question Submitted: I’ve noticed that several of your hosts have adopted children this year. Does it hurt that you are the only HRTB host not to have been given the gift of a child?

Don’t gasp, readers. This is not an audacious question. It is an honest one, and, frankly, I get asked it quite often. So, here is my honest answer:

First, from this website’s conception, my goal was never to have only childless hosts. In fact, if you have ever referred to the host page of this site, you already know that Rebecca, Kristi, Melissa, and Sandra have been mothers for years, whether through the gift of conception or adoption. I invited these sage women to cohost this site with me, because I am terribly aware of my own shortcomings. I am not an authority on every topic we cover on this site, and I rely heavily on their experience, wisdom, prudence, and compassion in responding to such issues as miscarriage, secondary infertility, adoption, and other concerns that touch upon the subject of barrenness.

Now, in response to the hurting portion of your question:

It does not hurt that I am the only HRTB host not to have children; it hurts that I don’t have children, period.

Yet.

It is remarkably easy to rejoice with my fellow hosts in the gifts they have been given this year, because I, too, have been given special gifts from God. I have been given the gift of knowledge from God’s Word that children are His gift to give and that He is wise in His giving; I have been given the gift of faith which trusts in the goodness of God’s giving and His not giving; I have been given the gift of fellowship in the Body of Christ, and I get to participate in the joy of my mother-sisters; I have been given the gift of assurance that my own prayers and sorrows are made known to my Father in heaven, because I have a Mediator who always intercedes on my behalf at God’s right hand; I have been given the gift of a Comforter who, through Word and Sacrament, grants me peace that surpasses all understanding; and, last but not least, I have been given a special vocation in the lives of my fellow HRTB hosts: First Officer of the Starship Motherhood.

What, exactly, does the First Officer do?

The First Officer receives stunned, amazed, blessed, joyous, play-by-play texts when Baby Mayes arrives.

The First Officer gets to share meals with Baby DeGroot and Big Boy Ostapowich.

The First Officer gets the privilege of being one of the first people to receive updates and pictures of Baby Leckband in China so that she can post said updates and pictures to Mama Leckband’s website for her while international internet access is limited.

Most importantly, the First Officer receives tender empathy at all times, even from across an ocean in the middle of a sleepless night just after Baby Leckband has been put into the arms of her family for the first time:

“I know there is joy and pain for you personally on this day. Know this, dear sister, you are loved for who you are TODAY. Your worth is found in the shadow of the One who has borne all of our suffering. His gifts are yours each and every day, despite your earthly pains and sorrows. You. Are. Loved!”

Does it hurt? Not as much as it could, thanks to the compassionate generosity of my fellow hosts who never leave me out but put me right in the middle of the celebration.

I am one blessed, barren woman.

Salute,

First Officer Schuermann

Fly Me to the Moonbeam!

We have reason to rejoice today! Would you please pray for Kristi and her family of four?

Compelling Distress

“But where there is to be a true prayer, there must be seriousness. People must feel their distress, and such distress presses them and compels them to call and cry out. Then prayer will be made willingly, as it ought to be. People will need no teaching about how to prepare for it and to reach the proper devotion. But the distress that ought to concern most (both for ourselves and everyone), you will find abundantly set forth in the Lord’s Prayer. Therefore, this prayer also serves as a reminder, so that we meditate on it and lay it to heart and do not fail to pray. For we all have enough things that we lack. The great problem is that we do not feel or recognize this. Therefore, God also requires that you weep and ask for such needs and wants, not because He does not know about them [Matthew 6:8], but so that you may kindle your heart to stronger and greater desires and make wide and open your cloak to receive much [Psalm 10:17].” Martin Luther, The Large Catechism, III: 26-27.*

* Concordia: The Lutheran Confessions (ed. Paul Timothy McCain; St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 2005), 411.

Let Us Care for You!

I know one of the reasons you won’t confide in people about your barrenness. There are those who insist on fixing you. You know, the people who slip you a piece of paper with the name of a health book they think will cure your barrenness, or the people who tell you to relax or – my personal favorite – start the adoption process in order to get pregnant.

But not everyone wants to fix you. Some people just want to care for you. Leah Houghton, a mother and part-time social worker, is one of those people, and she has something she wants to say to you:

The journey to parenthood has certainly been very trying for my family. Just of few of these trials include a partial-miscarriage of my first pregnancy where I miscarried one of the twins with which I was pregnant. During a standard sonogram, our second child was diagnosed with a cleft lip and palate. We were told by doctors that he would be blind, deaf, and mentally delayed. We were also told he would have heart and lung problems and would be “grossly disfigured.” We would have to wait until his delivery to discover that none of these things were true about our son. Yet, we still faced (and are still facing) numerous surgeries, doctor’s visits, clinic appointments, speech therapy evaluations, etc.

Just a little over a year after our son’s diagnosis, we experienced the miscarriage of our third pregnancy. I have also experienced moderate postpartum depression after the birth of my second child. Then, after I stopped nursing my daughter, I began experiencing severe anxiety and panic attacks (related to hormonal changes) that nearly incapacitated me for months. However, throughout all of these trials, the Lord has provided our daily bread and given us such grace and comfort. All these gifts truly surpass our understanding.

Sisters, I know from the outside that the woman who has a handful of young and energetic children may seem like the last person on earth to be able to provide you with any comfort when you are struggling with barrenness, and it is true that I cannot imagine the grief that an empty womb and an empty home must be. Yet, I encourage you to please tell your sisters in Christ your struggles. Let us care for you. Let us be a quiet ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting hand to hold. No, I don’t know what it is like to walk by empty nurseries that have been prayed over night after night with hopes that God would choose to fill that nursery in some way. No, I don’t know what it is like to have empty arms that so long to hold a child near. But, I do know what it is like to carry a child when you don’t know if you will ever get to bring that child home from the hospital; I know what it is like to grieve the loss of a child that you will never see on this earth; and I also know the strength and peace that can come from waiting on the Lord. And, sisters, I want to encourage you and carry that burden with you in prayer and love.

Please let us care for you! Let us pray with and for each other and bear with one another in love!

Leah Houghton

An Agonizing Absence

A barren friend recently confided to me, “I broke down crying the other day. I don’t really know why. I mean, I thought I would be over this by now.”

I don’t think we ever get over this barrenness thing, because no matter how comfortable we become, no matter how content we grow in our childlessness, it is still not the way things are supposed to be. God commanded us via Adam and Eve in the garden to be fruitful and multiply, and we know that it is God’s good will for us to have the blessing of children in marriage.

Yet, we don’t.

Our barren wombs are a reminder, a manifestation even, of the brokenness of this Sin-sick world, and, even though we are blessed and fruitful beyond measure today in Christ, the wrongness of our childless marriage still stings. And so we grieve.

Rev. Gregory Schulz describes it this way in The Problem of Suffering: A Father’s Hope:

[G]rief is love. This means that grief is a kind of care…Grief as care is an obsession, an attention – not to “mortality” or to “the human condition” – but to a person who is at the same time dearly loved and agonizingly absent. (Schulz, 102-3)

We cry, because our dearly loved children are agonizingly absent.

Suffering for My Own Good

This week marked seven full years since we signed the papers to begin an international adoption. How long, O Lord? How long until you grant my heart’s request? How can seven years of waiting for another child be a good thing? I have mourned because more children have not been given me. I have been jealous for the children that were given to others. My anger towards God has been lashed out on those I love. Left to my own devices, all my sinful desires would be fulfilled. I would be surrounded by false idols and eventually loathe all things.

However, the Lord has blessed me numerous times. In the past seven years, I have been part of a trio that brings joy to residents in nursing homes. My husband and I have been able to coach our daughter’s softball team together. The Lord has allowed me to sing the faithful hymns with 300 other Lutheran women at a district gathering. During the long wait, I have traveled with Katie and shared the joys and burdens of barrenness with others. If we had been traveling to China right now, I would have missed the funeral of a beloved friend. If December had taken us to our newest daughter, I would not have been able to sing the Christmas hymns with our Sunday School children.

Suffering never feels good. How could it? God never deigned for man to suffer. Our sinful nature grabs hold of us and strives to push us away from our loving Lord. The devil tempts me to think that I have endured more than my share of suffering. Satan would lead me to turn my back on God. The truth is that I should endure the torture of eternal hell. In my sin I have turned my back on God.

Jesus, though, has come to my rescue. He has endured suffering and death in my place. I don’t have to suffer eternal punishment for my sin. As a baptized child of God, I can face suffering and know that Jesus has endured far worse. The Lord has used (and is still using) my suffering to remind me that He knows what is best for me. I know with certainty that the Lord loves me and is using my suffering for good. The Lord has used the past seven years to remind me that He works all things for my eternal good.

What God ordains is always good: He is my friend and Father;

He suffers naught to do me harm Though many storms may gather.

Now I may know Both joy and woe;

Someday I shall see clearly

That He has loved me dearly.

Lutheran Service Book 760:4

A Season to Share

Rachel Pollock reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that we all endure suffering and enjoy blessings throughout the year, and we in the body of Christ can be there to share in all of them.

I had to update addresses before I could send Christmas cards this year. There were joyous updates. I added names of friends that got married, had babies, or finalized adoptions. It seemed there were more sad updates. Some of the names I had to remove because:

they had divorced or died. The worst was when an entire entry had to be removed because both spouses had died.
a father had committed suicide, and this affects his wife/children/grandchildren daily.
a child had lost the battle with leukemia.
A spouse had died when he seemed way too young to die.
they have dementia, and a letter would confuse them.

When I wrote the addresses on the envelopes I reflected on some of the suffering:

those who are single and would like to be married.
many couples that are barren or have not been blessed with a sibling for their only child.
many families that have experienced a miscarriage.
those who the doctor recommends no more pregnancies for the mother’s health.
those families that have so many children that being pregnant one more time feels like a burden for them.
those with cancer or Parkinson’s or depression.
those that are unemployed or not in a job they really want.
families that live very far from extended family.
a family with a seriously ill child.

It is even more difficult to write a Christmas letter with updates about our family. What a downer it would be to put in the letter that we have had six miscarriages. I would love to add in our letter that our youngest is actually younger than our four-year-old.

There are some obvious blessings to reflect on as I update the addresses:

a mother that is counting the days that she is still pregnant after many miscarriages, and it seems that she will get to rock and hold a little girl in a few months.
families that are healing after the death of a loved one or a divorce.
families that were able to adopt a child.
a family that rejoices because their child is healthy after major surgery.

Our family has many blessings, too. We have many friends and family all over the world to whom we send Christmas cards. My husband is healthy after a major surgery two years ago. We have three healthy sons. Both sets of our parents are alive and still married to each other. We added a brother-in-law to our family last year. We were able to move closer to one side of the family and able to buy a house beyond what we expected. My husband has a good job. We are part of a wonderful church family.

Yet, there are more blessings, still. Each day I thank and praise God that He safely brought me to another day to live out my baptismal life in Christ. We should not despair even when thinking of all the suffering of our family and friends. Whatever happens in our lives, we are God’s children and God will work it for our eternal good. God will provide and care for our every need. My address list will always have suffering on it because we live in a sinful world. Jesus has conquered sin, death, and the devil. We press on towards the goal of eternal life in heaven. Because of all the suffering on earth, we long for heaven even more.

“Be near me, Lord Jesus: I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever and love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,

And take us to heaven to live with Thee there.”

LSB 364:3

Rachel Pollock

The Cross We Bare

Laura Koch reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that the crosses we bear can be very hard to bare. Thank you, Laura, for baring your cross to us.

Blessed by God – I suppose that would be the “category” that might describe me since I have four children that were created by God in my womb. But I also know the pain and sorrow of a body filled with stage 4 endometriosis. I know, too, the guilt and suffering that goes with losing an ovary by disease and then deciding to “tie the tube” on the other side because childbirth was becoming too hard.

Our first daughter came to be very early in our marriage. My husband was at the seminary, I was a Lutheran school teacher…we had barely enough money to live on, and yet she came. I was so afraid. How would we take care of her? God provided beautifully for all our needs….and even granted us a son while we were still at the seminary. Another daughter came during my husband’s early years in ministry. Our last daughter came three years later but two months premature, as I was severely bleeding due to placenta previa. After receiving 5 pints of blood, I was just fine. And after 4 weeks in the hospital she came home.

So, why then am I writing here? Because I find so much comfort in the words written on this blog. I believe God has created a natural desire in women to have children. We, on most days, comfortably nurture the people in our home. When this blessing of children is not granted or ceases to be, the pain that a women suffers can become unbearable at times. And when one chooses not to have children because of fear or because of a risk to her body, her grief can be insurmountable, too. I know.

The years following my tubal were filled with so much grief and tears. I wish I had not made that decision in haste – lying on a hospital bed in pain due to an enormous cyst on the other ovary. I don’t know if God would have granted us any more children. I don’t know if my body would have been able to handle it anymore. Eventually, endometriosis would claim my very womb, too.

The guilt over that decision, though, grieved my heart for many years.

A barren womb is not always easy to see.

We all know that we live in a sin-cursed world. We are children of God, saved by grace in the death of His Son, Jesus Christ, and we live in the freedom of our sins being forgiven. We know that God does indeed love each of us. We need to hear that spoken in our ears every Sunday, if not more! I know that God has forgiven me for that decision and He has calmed my spirit as years have gone by. I look at my children as the true gifts that they are, created in a body that was broken by sin. And I weep with the barren woman because I have shared in her grief, too.

Laura Koch

“My Suffering Is a Blessing” Contest Winner

Blessed Epiphany!

Thank you for taking the time to reflect on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” with us this holy season. It is a privilege to be on the receiving end of your thoughtful words (so much so that we are tempted to host more writing contests throughout the year), and we greatly appreciate your participation in such ventures. It truly is an honor to read your submissions.

We’d like to share five posts with you this week, starting today with a post written by our contest winner, Heidi Dawn Sias. Congratulations, Heidi, on winning a free copy of He Remembers the Barren, and thank you for allowing us to share your words of wisdom and encouragement below.

Grateful,

Your HRTB Hosts

It’s that time of year again: a time for gifts, a time for family gatherings, a time for Christmas cookies, a time for singing carols, a time for New Year’s parties, and a time for children, as they have “visions of sugar-plums” dancing in their heads…whatever that means. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, right? It’s so much fun to watch children’s eyes light up when they see the lighted Christmas tree with gifts strewn beneath it, and welcome another New Year with hearts full of hopes and dreams. But what about families struggling to make ends meet; what about families who can’t be together; what about families who have lost someone this past year; what about the twenty families in Connecticut who will look at the gifts they bought for their children this year with tears streaming down their face; what about the family in our community here who eagerly awaited their newborn daughter to arrive around Christmas but attended her funeral instead; what about our friend’s extended family member with six-month-old twins, who lost one twin to SIDS just four days before Christmas; what about my sister-in-law whose one-year-old son died one month after Christmas last year after spending his entire life in the hospital; what about me….entering my final child-bearing years and still without a child of my own to hold? These things hurt deeply and we ask, “why?” We might begin to look at the New Year with anxiety wondering what will happen next. Sometimes this time of year reminds us even more of the suffering we’ve endured instead of being the most wonderful time of the year.

But Christmas is about Jesus. It’s not about sugar-plums. Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us. That’s Christmas. That’s what we celebrate. That little baby came to take on my burdens and to die on a cross. That little baby is my comfort in suffering. My suffering draws me back again and again to the foot of the cross, weary and weeping. Jesus lifts up my head and points me back to His manger, back to His cross, and says, “I did that for you.” He calls me to himself and says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28) I can rejoice in my suffering “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Rom. 5:3–5) It’s a perplexing phrase: “rejoice in my sufferings.” But I can, because in the end suffering gives me hope. Hope in Christ, the only Hope. Of course, I cry in my sufferings too, but I can still rejoice in knowing God’s love has been poured into my heart. He has made promises that I can count on. He weeps with me, wipes away my tears, and says, “come to me so I can comfort you.” I receive Him in faith, I rest in Him, and I cling to the promises He gives me in His Word; promises of forgiveness, life, and salvation. Hope for a future with Him. Jesus came for me. Jesus came for you. That’s worth celebrating no matter what sufferings we endure. It’s worth celebrating at Christmas, and it’s worth celebrating all year round. My suffering is a blessing because it points me to Christ, and He is all I really need.

Heidi Dawn Sias