I was going to save this post for leading up to Mother’s Day. Because I wanted all of you who feel the pangs of an empty womb to know I think of you on that day. I thank God for my calling as mother, and I am quickly pricked with survivor’s guilt of sorts as I glance over at you in church. I know I don’t see all the tears you bring to your husbands, your close confidents, or God, but I do pray for you. So why do I share now? Because I hear its national infertility week. I am ashamed to say I didn’t know. It wasn’t something I even knew existed until I saw a couple friends post on facebook a sharing of their souls. They opened up their hearts, even though for now, God has closed their wombs. Thank you, dear women, who continue to fight the faith and see God’s goodness in the waiting. Thank you for unlocking your secret places and letting us in. It is a gift to view that landscape of your hearts.
To those waiting women…I wish I could take some of the abandoned you feel. There have been many times I have looked at you and thought, “If anyone…why not her Lord? She is tender, godly, kind. She has the soul of a mother. Why have you opened my womb to life and hers is seemingly sealed tight like a grave?” Precious sister, I can’t comprehend the anguish you feel. How many doctor appointments have you been to? How many blood draws have you endured? Has the shame of “what’s wrong with me?” rested on your shoulders, weighing you down? Has it divided you in painful ways from your husband as you both mourn in silence? Do you blame yourself? Do you buy into the devil's lies and think you are less? Less worthy to be saved in child bearing? Have you peed on that stick just to see one pink line give way? Did you want to burst with hopeful expectation, pacing the bathroom floor, just to fall into a heap of devastation as it seemed your body betrayed you yet again? How many of your days have felt bleak and barren? Which moments have been the hardest, filled with the most travail? Does Mother’s Day cast a cloud upon you? Does the day rain sorrow and isolation? Are you drowning in a valley of tears? Perhaps mourning this story that wasn’t a part of your plan? Are you grieving missed park days, dirty faces to wipe, snuggles at night, books to read, trucks pushed in dirt, nails to paint? Have you prayed, just to feel cast off? Do you lay eyes on her? -That swollen glowing woman in your life that is expecting? Do you struggle with resentment, just to chide yourself for harboring jealousy against someone you love and care about? Do your insides hold a bit of anger when other women complain about their blessings? If only you could be up with a nursing baby, or shepherding that rebellious toddler…how can women talk so flippantly of what you don’t have? Do you have to wait to respond to that pregnancy announcement your friend just sent out? Because you want to be happy, but you just can’t arrive there yet. Do you feel like a bit of Rachel, just bogged down with the burden, and your soul cries out, “Give me children or else I die!” Do you wonder if God sees the painful death you are dying?
Mother-in-waiting, I am sorry. I am sorry you don’t have the giggles and the grime that comes hand in hand with motherhood. I’m sorry little pieces of you and your husband don’t fill in some of your empty places. I’m sorry that as birthdays come and go, adding years to your life, the longer you feel slapped in the face with the reality you relate more and more to Sarah, who laughed within herself because she waxed old, not believing she could have the pleasure of bearing a child. I’m sorry it took an emptying of my womb to see more clearly the emptiness of yours. I’m sorry this is your broken way. I’m sorry for the times I’ve huffed and puffed over sleepless nights and sick kids. I’m sorry if I was ever a stumbling block. I’m sorry I don’t always know what to say. That sometimes there seems to be a gaping hole of unknown between us. At times I wonder if the struggle of infertility is within you, but asking for a status update seems too intimate. I wish it wasn’t awkward at times. That wanting to know deeper how to pray for you didn’t feel like prying into your personal life.
Mothers-be gentle. Be sensitive. It is ok to share the burdens that come with motherhood. But be aware that there are weeping women beside you who may hear your complaints. And it could unknowingly be slashing their wounds a little deeper. Be careful how you talk about your blessings. Strive to walk hand in hand with your sisters in Christ. Tell them you are praying for them. Don’t just let the words roll off your lips, but really truly enter into deep prayer for their lamenting souls. Remember them when you are expecting. Remember that although they are happy for you, it is hard for them. Don’t begrudge them for struggling. Walk beside them as much as possible knowing they are part of your family. Don’t assume adoption is an easy band aid that will stop the bleeding. Don’t try to mend the pain of their barrenness with false hopes or easy answers. If they open up to you, just listen. Embrace it for the gift that it is. And be gentle.
Mother-in-waiting, thank you for sharing some of yourself with me. Thank you for telling me it’s hard. I want you to know, that when I got pregnant, you were one of the first and last people I wanted to share the excitement with. First because I love you, friend. First because I know your wonderful soul is knit close with mine. But last because I didn’t want to contribute to your pain. I didn’t want to cut into those places. I thought of you when I sat in the doctor’s chair waiting to get my blood drawn yet again, hoping my pregnancy was going well. I was anxious my womb might fail me again, but I gave thanks for the growing, even though the future was unknown, because this beginning was a gift. I prayed you might know the gift. Thank you for praying for my babies…for holding them after church, for looking into their eyes and filling in some of their places. Thank you for making me that meal after I had my baby. You didn’t have to, but I want you to know that your giving was extra special to me, because I knew it must have been hard to take in all the newness I held and not feel old at heart. Thanks for responding to my pregnancy announcement. You didn’t have to. I didn’t expect you to. It’s ok it took you time. It’s ok you had to find room to breathe first. Thank you for breaking into the real and raw places.
Even though you might not have children to hold your hand...God is tightly gripping yours. And even though you don’t have a sleeping baby on your chest, God has you safely in His bosom. You may not have little tears to wipe, but know God wipes yours. You don’t have the children stories to share or small whispers of I love you's planted in your ear… but God hears the story of your hearts…He planned it all beautifully. And He whispers I love you's to you, His child. And His only Son? He gave Him for you, so you can be His beloved one. You are daughter to Him. Rest in that. Breathe it in. Let it rock you to sleep. He formed you in the deepest unknowns. Don’t be afraid...Father holds you.
God is the one who chooses to open and close a womb for His glory. I don’t know His plans. But I know they are good even when they feel broken. I know my feelings can’t always be trusted, but God can. There’s a line of women of old that have gone before you. I see you all in the inked names of the Word. There for you to find comfort as you know there have been hearts that have held tears ahead of you. I see you in Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, the mother of Samson, Hannah, Elizabeth. All of us, we can either be the Jonah’s who run from Him, simmering with bitterness and frustration, casting blame and harboring doubts about His goodness, or we can be the Hannah’s, trusting Him to be gentle and trustworthy of our deepest darkest emotions. He didn’t forsake these women of faith, and He won’t forsake you either. Lay your head on His promises as you carry your longing. Find rest in Father. He will help, guide, and shepherd you, His jeweled child. Joy comes in the morning. He will hold you fast.
The echo of this song rings in me as I try and hear your hearts…
Psalm 30:5b, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." <3
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