[Ha, I don’t really have the secret to anything, so don’t expect that here. Feel free to just watch this video and skip the rest.]
For the brave or stupid:
I spend more time than I care to admit picking apart the nuances of infertility. With something so confounding – something that often seems like nothing more than peculiarly bad luck – I find myself constantly seeking answers. “Why me?” is just the tip of the iceberg. I tend to be more of a “Why not me?” type of person, anyway (much more out of pessimism than humility), so I don’t mean “Why me?” in the sense of “Why not someone else?” but more in the sense of “For what particular reason(s) has God allowed this in my life?” Because He has allowed it, and He always has reasons. I trust that they are Good, too, but trusting that an answer is good isn’t the same as knowing what it is, do you see?
Do you see? I’m not so sure I’m making a whiff of sense. That’s my point, I suppose. All of my analyzing often leaves me more confused, not less. For example:
- Why me? Why not?
- What about Cisco? What about Snert?
- How am I supposed to live with this? How am I supposed to sanctify this? Why can’t I be allowed to sanctify my life the normal way?
- Why am I so ungrateful? Why do I have to be grateful? Is it wrong to be sad about infertility when there are people out there who have it worse?
- What kind of example am I giving to others? What is God trying to teach me?
- Would this have happened at all if I were a better person?
- What do we do now? What if Cisco and I can’t agree on it?
- Why don’t people talk about infertility? Why do some people give me an earful about “trusting God’s will,” but it sounds more like “Your sadness makes me uncomfortable”?
- Will it always hurt this much?
- What if I miraculously get pregnant tomorrow and have to face the fact that I’ve been really bad at being infertile?
- What if, Dear God, I never have another child?
- What if my whole life is just as barren as I am?
Had enough? These questions (and a hundred others) have played on a loop in my head every day for over four years. I don’t have an answer to a single one. The only thing I do know is very, very simple, and therefore hard for me to accept: God loves me, He has allowed this, and it is merciful.
God loves me. He has allowed this. It is merciful.
I have to stop looking so hard for answers.
To use a tired metaphor, I might paint the entire picture of my life in the dark, but I will paint it, stroke by stroke, whether I like it or not. Hopefully, and much more through His merit than mine, those strokes will say Yes. Yes to His will, yes to His mercy, yes to infertility. Yes on top of yes on top of heartbroken, blind, bone-weary yes.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
It’s not as bleak as it sounds. There is an enormous promise, a Great Consolation. In the end, in the light – Lord, in your mercy, get me there! – it will make sense. Knowing God, it’ll be beautiful, too. It will be worth it.
I can’t wait.