This picture was taken in the full
optimism and joy in the prospect of becoming parents in April of 2012. As the
months passed by and turned into years, five to be exact, the pain of
infertility grew, and sometimes my heart would and still does literally ache so
much it hurts. I have had approximately sixty ways of being told "no, not
yet," whether it be through my cycle, negative after negative test, failed
IUIs, failed IVFs and a devastating miscarriage. Every four weeks is a reminder
of dreams yet unrealized. The feeling of being left behind has been one of the
most painful; as the world moves on from milestone to milestone with their
child/children, mine stands still. Through it all, there have been tears but
also many tender mercies. I have received tender mercies of dear friends who
have embraced me, even though it's easier for them to have mom-friends so their
kids can play with other kids, they include me anyways. I have received the
sweetest texts, letters, packages and notes from dear friends who remind me I
am not forgotten. I have read beautiful words of scripture that tell me to
"be of good courage" and to remember the miracles of Hannah,
Elisabeth, and Rebekah in the scriptures. I have had friends and family that
have cried for and with me. And in the temple, I have felt the love of a
ever-involved Heavenly Father.
I have also learned some lessons about
infertility I want to share here since it's a hard subject that most don't talk
about. Let's be honest, the word "infertility" makes people
uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable. But you don't have to look hard to
find someone experiencing it, one in eight experience it in one form or
another. If you are experiencing infertility, I want you to know you're not
alone! Here are some things I have discovered on my personal infertility
journey:
1. The truth is it's hard to describe the
pain of infertility because it is indescribable. Laura Bush says it best,
"The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of
a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and
phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even
if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who
was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness.
For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies
hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel
of a tiny hand that is never held?" We don't know how to talk about
infertility because there are no words to! This may not seem like a very
helpful tip, but just know that sometimes it may be hard to realize what your
friend with infertility is going through because they are having a hard time
processing it themselves. Some people deal with it best when it's talked about
(me!); others deal with it best without talking about it. Sometimes the best
way to know is just to ask, "Do you want to talk about it?" Even
though it is indescribable, talking out the feelings and emotions can be
cathartic.
2. Arms won't be empty forever--the
principle of compensation. It's hard to not think about the what ifs. The
truth is it isn't productive, but sometimes I can't help but wonder. Would we
have three children now? Two? The thing that has kept me going is Heavenly
Father wrote infertility in as part of my plan. He trusted that I could be
faithful, despite that hardship. He trusted that I could become more
empathetic. He trusted that I could be able to teach primary songs to 97
primary children, even though I have none of my own. The truth is life isn't
perfect for anyone. It isn't fair. Infertility is just one of many challenges,
and I will be the first to admit it's not the hardest trial out there. I am so
grateful to be a part of the gospel of Jesus Christ. As Elder Neil L. Andersen said,
"Sometimes life seems very unfair—especially when our greatest desire is
to do exactly what the Lord has commanded." The beautiful thing is our
gospel teaches us about the principle of compensation: that everything unfair
in this life will be made right in the next. What a blessing! Right now is just
a sliver of eternity. Our pain won't last forever, whether that pain be
singleness, betrayal, sickness, loneliness, or any other earthly ailment.
3. We can be refined through our trials. Throughout infertility, I have sometimes wanted to shake my hand
in the air and say, "How could you do this to me?" like the currant
bush that wants to be a tree in Elder Hugh B. Brown's timeless story. The
gardener replies to the currant bush, "One day, little currant bush,
you'll be laden with fruit. You will see!" The currant bush is then cut
way back and cries. As time passes, the currant bush grows laden with fruit.
Then the currant bush says to the gardener, "Thank you for loving me
enough to cut me down. Thank you for loving me enough to hurt me." (My
summary from the movie below.) Many times I have felt like that currant bush.
"Heavenly Father, why can't this happen?! We have tried everything!"
And then I feel a loving Father in Heaven say, "Katie, I have you exactly
where I need you right now. It's going to be okay. It's not about your
worthiness of being a good mother; it's about being willing to go where I take
you." The most important thing we can do is give Heavenly Father our will,
just hand it over. Infertility is a marvelous opportunity to learn to just give
it to Him.
5. Do the basics. Above all, I have learned that we have a loving Father in Heaven who wants what's best for us. He will tutor us through our earthly experiences if we let Him. He will come to us. It really is the little things: the scripture studies, the prayers, going to the temple, attending our meetings and fulfilling our callings that refine us and keep us in tune with Him. I firmly believe we can get through anything and everything if we do the basics. We don't have control of our infertility, but we do have control over our spirituality and how close we can keep to Him. Not letting bitterness in about "not fitting the mold" saves us from grief and purposely distancing ourselves from a God with hands outreached. It's up to us to keep reaching to Him, and He will always reach back.
This five year anniversary of our infertility journey was supposed to be sad, but, instead, I am filled with joy because I know that there's a Plan of Happiness. Everything we go through here is for our eternal and ultimate progression and happiness. And I can't wait to see this plan unfold, line upon line, precept on precept!
