It is that time of year again, isn’t it? Images of happy children during the holidays are flooding your social media threads, but you are still waiting, aren’t you? You are trying, with every ounce of your soul, to make the world seem simple, but you are in the most complicated battle of your life. Appointments, tests, needles, counseling, hope, disappointment, prayer, tears, anger, confusion, frustration, and countless moments of utter heartbreak all seem to color the path to which you walk. For some of you, there are no needles, no appointments, no tests, and no tangible sense of hope. Barrenness has settled in and made you its home.
You are a Momma-in-Waiting, and the world seems to be passing you by.
You hear others speak about their babies. You view their first pictures with Santa, and watch videos of them singing Christmas songs. They are all growing, aren’t they? They are learning new words, discovering the excitement of first steps, and giving their Momma’s an array of challenges on a daily basis. Yet, there you sit. Listening, smiling, even laughing at some moments, and looking upon their babies with a longing that is only matched by your own determination to get through this season of your life.
You wonder, “When will it be my turn? When will I hear first words, see first steps, and be challenged day in and day out? When will I get to experience a Christmas flooded with the laughter of children? When will I no longer be a Momma-in-Waiting?“
You are dwelling in that seemingly lonely place. This time of year is especially hard, isn’t it? The holidays, New Year’s Resolutions, fresh starts, and images of children splattered across almost every single piece of media only seems to remind you of what you long for…
your blessed answer to prayer.
When your friends are trying to avoid pregnancy, you are screaming for it. When your friends are complaining about pregnancy, you turn your ears away. Your heart sinks in a bit, and you just want to silence their words.
It took me many long years to meander my way through the thickness of barrenness. It seemed an even longer journey to until my number was called and I knew that I would be a mother, forever….when adoption called my name.
It’s not easy. You know that all too well. It is not understood. Nothing seems to be anymore. Infertility is truly one of the unexplored territories in the human existence. The ones who travel through it understand, but the ones who do not, really have no clue.
Even after adoption and the gift of three children, I still find myself thinking back to my surgery. Sometimes, I still wonder what my birth children would have been like, or look like. I wonder if they would have had resembled my grandmother, or had the dimple of my husband’s chin.
If there are a few words of comfort that I can offer (and I’m a woman of many words, so this will be hard for me) it is, do not stop praying. Do not stop seeking the ends (whatever they are) to meet your goal.
If, at the end of all the medical trials, you are told your only hope for motherhood is to adopt, it is okay to grieve this. It is okay to cry fountains of tears over barrenness. I know I have.
It is okay to get angry, question why you are battling this stupid war taking place in your body, and wonder if the very Lord you have staked your eternity in has forgotten about the life you are living on Earth.
One day when things seem to make more sense, you will look back on this time in your life, look up to the heavens, and say, “I get it now.” You will be able to share your Christmas pictures, wait until the kiddos are asleep to put out gifts, and plan for months how you are going to surprise them during the holidays.
One day, you will wake up on Christmas morning to the sweet excitement of…
your blessed answer to prayer.