Hills & Valleys: Our Faith Journey

Do you ever have moments where you just feel utterly crushed? When you see your dreams falling away, crumbling before your eyes...and you wonder what will be left?

I wish you knew... what it was like to sit and dream for something, but have to remind yourself it may never happen how it feels to watch your dream being lived out in the lives of most of your friends yet still be unattainable for you what it's like to not even be able to go to the mall without having your deepest pain thrown in your face as you walk by maternity clothing stores, see the pregnant teenagers, hear the cries of a little baby how it feels to not be able to walk into a doctor's office without having an emotional meltdown what it's like to feel like you aren't woman enough to bear children Infertility so easily strips you of your identity as a woman. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't ever been there, but it's our reality. It's like your one main purpose, you just can't fulfil. Your body doesn't work right. You feel like less of a woman. You feel like maybe you're just not good enough, or you've sinned too ...

It's just one little word. Eleven little letters. But they crush me. You see, I hadn't planned this. For as long as I remember, I had planned on having lots of kids. My sisters would talk about specific numbers. I would say "as many as God gives me," but in my mind, that meant an abundance - six or eight or more. I grew up in a big family - I'm one of five, my dad is one of ten, my grandma is one of twelve. Of course I'd have a big family! I never expected this . I never expected infertility to become a part of my life. Yet, completely uninvited, it came. Some would say, "be content with what you have!" or "at least you have one child." I say, you don't understand what it's like to see your dreams crushed every single month. How it feels to wonder if they will ever be fulfilled? What it's like to watch your friends and your family members get pregnant when they want to while you stand by. To have this happen year after...

I think we all do it - we determine what, who we're going to be. We make plans, we choose a career path, we think we've got life figured out. And then comes the curveball. Mine was infertility. I'd always planned on having a bunch of kids. Of course, I cloaked that under the phrase "however many God gives me," but at the end of the day, the plan was not one kiddo in six years. These six years have brought so much heartache as I have wrestled with how my reality meshes with my dream. How to make the two work? Maybe God's timing was a little slower than mine, I thought. Another month, another six months, another year, passed by - no baby. Maybe He was just testing me. Maybe I needed to become "more spiritual." Maybe there was too much sin in my life. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I tormented myself with "maybe's." But I never once considered this: that maybe my plan was wrong. Maybe my plan was just that: mine . Maybe I had never really ...

It's a Saturday morning, and it's my birthday. And I wake up so excited to jump out of bed, because it's the day that I will hopefully get the best birthday present ever: the news that our next child is on his/her way. I bound out of bed, so much anticipation in every step. My cycle is seven days late, and with every fiber of my being, I expect to see a positive result. I walk out, and I am crushed. Another month, another negative test. Infertility has won again. All I want to do is go back to bed, curl up, and forget. Forget what it's like to want children. Forget how much the negative tests hurt. Forget that infertility is a part of my life. I want to just stop this crazy rollercoaster ride of emotions and pretend like I don't care any more. But I can't. It does  hurt. I hate hoping and getting disappointed, over and over and over again. And then the questions come. "Do you want more children?" "When are you having another one?" ...