Having never considered that I would not have a baby when I wanted to, the word infertile was foreign to me. Infertility is barren, is lacking in breath, stagnant, is not flowering or growing. Infertility is dead. And I was alive. How could this word connect to me? A woman, wife, sister, aunt, godmother, friend, dancer, lover of books, art, music,fashion, fairies and laughter. I was alive. At 30, I was in my prime physically and growing every day – spiritually. But this word would begin to describe me and seep its ugly, rotten roots into all the glory of the “miraculous me” that I was working so hard to be.
Self. Infertility broke my vision of self, but ultimately, this was a good thing. Infertility pulled me out of the Tiffany blue and bowed box I’d wrapped myself in and exposed me for who and what I was. A “me” girl living in a “me” world. Infertility crept in with ninja-like precision… with one motive and one motive only – to show me myself before killing me. Thankfully, the researcher in me took notes while infertility did it’s dirty work. So I learned a few things, and as I look back over its temporal damage, I see what was left – was the stuff of life that is eternal. By the grace of God, grace was with me. I shadowed her every movement, sweeping up and quickly storing any and everything left behind that might prove beneficial on the next part of my journey. Grace gave me the opportunity to live. Infertility wasn’t looking and in the midst of her seemingly obvious victory, grace covered a seedling growing in the corner of my ripped and worn heart. Having assumed the battle was over, infertility got lazy. But there was life. That life was mine. Restored.
Infertility taught me a level of compassion I never would have known existed otherwise. I learned that everyone – everywhere – is going through… something. I learned to claim my fertility in other areas of my life. I learned to ski, I studied nutrition, made jewelry and opened a clothing store with my husband. I choreographed dances, something I was never inspired to do. I got a passport and stood on a glacier in Iceland and in Sweden, witnessed the hearts of spiritually parched people, be drenched, in the word of life. I saw places of the world that helped to shape the me that was slowly re-emerging. A great deal stronger, a whole lot wiser. All things I might have done, but probably would not have, had my life taken a different course.
Infertility brought 3 spirit babies into my life and forced me to really be present in my step-sons. I truly believe my souls longing for them led me to them. Adoption was always part of our family building conversation but would we really have pursued it had we started giving birth to babies right away? 14 years of infertility resulted in the birth of our youngest son – naturally conceived at the age of 44. And finally, and I believe most importantly, infertility strengthened my miniscule, now mighty, faith muscles. I have the most precious ability to believe God for absolutely anything. Dr. Tony Evans said it best -“He amazes you to get your attention” . and He has certainly got mine.
So although I never thought I would say this…thank you infertility. You came to destroy but you were defeated.
