5 Years of Infertility: What I Have Learned

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. 

4. A little support goes a long way! Trials aren't as simple as they appear on the outside, and that goes for all trials! I think the best support I have received is people who include me, despite not having children like them and treat me as a friend and don't focus on the fact that we're not in the same stage of life. Sometimes just hearing someone say "That sounds so hard. I am so sorry," is all I need. Acknowledging the loss of a miscarriage or a failed IVF can help you feel loved, supported and not forgotten. The support I have received has sometimes carried me until I feel strong enough to face the battle head on again.

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!