I sat on my couch texting my friends: “I feel purposeless.” I wrote about it in my private blog: “I have no purpose right now.” The only thing I kept repeating to my husband was: “What am I supposed to do? I have no purpose, Matt.”
In the beginning stages of my infertility walk, I turned to online forums, infertility hashtags, and surface-level devotionals. But these lets-only-talk-about-our-pain relationships in the infertility community hindered rather than helped me. Constantly talking in “infertility language” like (CD, POS, DPO, CM, PUPO), using a screen name, never showing my face, and only telling people what day of my cycle I was in was a rollercoaster of confusion, anxiety, and frustration. Online friendships would begin, only to be erased the minute a “fellow infertile” would get pregnant and drop out of the forum. I found momentary comfort knowing many women were struggling with the same issue, but the minute I’d get off the computer was the minute I felt isolated and alone again.
I desired to go out for coffee with my friends, but they had children to tend to. I wanted to do a Bible study, but the only available options at the time were mommy groups or young family studies. My heart was longing for relationship, for fellowship, for like-minded camaraderie.
Even if friends could squeeze in time to meet with me for girl-bonding, most of the time their children came with. It was not jealousy or envy that weighed on my heart, but my “purposelessness.” In the moments where a child wasn’t interrupting conversation, the topics eventually turned to the child. I felt I had nothing to offer the conversation, nothing to relate to. I believed that the physical emptiness of not being a mother myself made me unrelatable and that I brought nothing to the table.
Experiencing this physical void in my life, however, does not equal loneliness, emptiness, or something negative. But it has taken me time, prayer, and studying the Word to understand and accept this.
Having time, having loneliness, having a void — all led me to rely on the utmost relevant and constant source of comfort and strength: Jesus Christ and His Word. Was it possible that not having something was for my benefit? Yes, it was possible — and it is possible — and the Lord has graciously and mercifully shown this to me in numerous ways.
My journey is just that: my journey. Because the Lord created me, I know He desires for me to endure infertility, though it seems hard to comprehend. Infertility is not my identity, but my identity is found in the saving grace of my Savior and Lord Jesus Christ. He, and He alone, has given me the strength to overcome the sadness, grief, jealousy, and anxiety of this complex journey. There is hope and joy that is found through this road.
For more than a year I kept a private blog about my infertility journey that I only shared with family and friends. The thought of going public was too frightening. But I had felt the Holy Spirit nudging me, essentially saying: Don’t stay silent. And it makes sense to me now. My life as a child of God is to tell of the Good News of Jesus Christ and His divine working in my life. Because my faith life has grown exponentially through infertility, I know that it’s possible for all others struggling, too. I can’t help but desire to see struggling women challenge themselves along with me. I know it’s possible for them to see their infertility as a platform for growth, joy, and purposeful living.
I pray you join me as we move out of our embarrassment and isolation, take steps toward growing our faith, and rest contently in the path our sovereign Creator has gifted us.
Living positively for Christ,