Infertility. That word alone inspires fear and doubt. It changes lives. It disrupts plans. I know it did for me. I remember years ago when I first got diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). I remember the doctors telling me that something had to be wrong for me to not have been pregnant yet. But, I pushed that aside, and I went on in life as if nothing was wrong. It bothered me subconsciously, but I put on a brave front. I continued encouraging others. Life went on. Recently, I went to a new doctor, and she again talked about my PCOS. She was incredulous at the fact that almost nine years into my marriage, I had still not conceived. She brought up that curse word again: Infertility. This time though, the word gave me more grief. I began to automatically think about the fact that maybe I would never conceive. I immediately wondered what I had done wrong for my body to betray me in such a way. Maybe I did something I should not have. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I was not good enough…fertile enough…woman enough. Woman enough…yeah, that one hurt. You see, I thought that being able to conceive makes one a “real woman”.
As others around me conceived, some of them not even wanting to, I found myself drawing deeper and deeper within myself. I cowered behind my pain, but I put on a mask of happiness and joy, and made everyone think that life was perfect. But it wasn’t. I wanted so bad to have a child. Well meaning friends and associates would often tell me that my time was coming, and I was “next”. They asked randomly if I was pregnant, or if I had tried all I should to conceive. Unbeknownst to them, each question/well-meaning inquiry reinforced my belief that I was not woman enough. What woman cannot conceive on her own? Not a real one, I answered myself. Negative pregnancy test after test, let down after let down, and every menstrual cycle that decided to show up, I began to question God more and more until I got to a place of being angry with God. This one thing so greatly desired, I had been denied. “Why God?”, I cried. I thought that life was really just unfair.
But somewhere along the way, things shifted in me. I don’t even know when the shift occurred. I just know that one day, the hurt was not as deep, and I was actually looking forward to my life as being an amazing wife to my amazing husband–even if it were just he and I for the rest of our lives. I began to look forward to my “freedom” and to learning more about myself, as well as exploring all else I had not tapped in to. While the desire is still present, and the hurt is still there, I learned to live in the midst of the “birthing pains”, as I came to call them. The hurt has now become just a dull thud in the corner of my heart. In this place on my journey, God reminded me to live. I remembered that there is more to me than having a baby. I have a purpose. I have people to touch. I have a life to lead outside of being a mother. Life can still be fully lived, and I remembered again that I am “woman enough”. I am not broken because I have not conceived. I am not less than anyone else because I have not been blessed in that way. My path has just been different. Maybe one day God will see fit to allow me to be a mother, but even if He does not, my life will be full and happy, and lived well.
I don’t know what you’re dealing with that you haven’t told anyone. Maybe you’re hurting in a place that you believe you will never recover from. Maybe even your close friends do not realize the extent of your hurt, but know that God knows all. If you don’t believe in God, I hope to convince you otherwise :-), but know that life is not over because of that one thing you may not have. Every obstacle, every pain, every setback, and every moment of frustration is all a part of the “birthing pains” to your purpose. You never know the lives you will touch because of your experience. So when you are ready, remember that it is time for you to live again. Don’t allow life to make you settle for “just good enough” because you cannot have your greatest desire. Live in expectancy of greatness. Love, laugh, live fully. There is really more to you than this moment…