I found this on a friends blog and it completely describe's everything I have been feeling lately.
"What do I think God meant when he gave me infertility?"
Couples experiencing infertility often receive well-meaning but extremely insensitive "advice." We can all list the most popular ones: "Just relax and you'll get pregnant," or "you can always adopt," or "things happen for a reason", or the most painful from those who think they've got the goods on God's plan, "Maybe God never meant for you to have children."
The sheer audacity of making a statement like that never fails to amaze me!
These same people would never walk up to someone seeking treatment for cancer and say, "Maybe God never meant for you to live." However, because I am infertile, I'm supposed to get on with my life? It's hard to understand that people can't see infertility for what it is -- a disease for which I have to seek treatment. What if Jonas Salk had said to the parents of polio victims, "Maybe God meant for thousands of our children to be cripples, live in an iron lung or die." What if he'd never tried to find a cure? Who could think for one minute that that was God's plan?
What do I think God meant when he gave me infertility? I think he meant for my husband and I to grow closer, become stronger, love deeper. I think God meant for us to find the fortitude within ourselves to get back up every time infertility knocks us down. I think God meant for our medical community to discover medicines, invent medical equipment, and create procedures and protocols. I think God meant for us to find a cure for infertility.
No, God never meant for me not to have children. That's not my destiny; that's just a fork in the road I'm on. I've been placed on the road less traveled, and, like it or not, I'm a better person for it. Clearly, God meant for me to develop more compassion, deeper courage, and greater inner strength on this journey to resolution, and I hope I haven't let him down.
Frankly, if the truth be known, I think God has singled me out for special treatment. I think God meant for me to build a thirst for a child so strong and so deep that when that baby is finally placed in my arms, it will be the longest, coolest, most refreshing drink I've ever known. While I would never choose infertility for anyone, I can't deny that a more fertile woman could ever know the joy that awaits me.
Yes, one way or another, I will have a baby of my own. And the next time someone wants to offer me unsolicited advice I'll say, "Don't tell me what God meant when he handed me infertility. I already know..."
~ Anonymous
I have heard all of these comments as well as "Why spend all that money when there is no guarantee?" Or, "If you do infertility treatments, you could end up with 80 babies." This last one might sound funny but it isn't. And that I'm sure is me being overly sensitive. Although I don't think these comments are meant to be intentionally hurtful or insensitive, I know it's hard to understand something you have never experienced.
I will be the first to admit that I found it easy to joke and laugh at myself with my infertility. But once I started the treatments, I didn't find it funny anymore. It's emotional, heartbreaking, tiring, and takes a physical toll on your body. People make comments such as "better you than me" or " I don't think I could ever do that." Believe me, if you want a baby bad enough, you'll do whatever it takes. If, people in general, took a good look at their precious babies and children now and think about, "What if I had to pay thousand's of dollars, take shots everyday, have blood draws and ultrasounds everyday to get this end result?" Believe me, you would do it in a heartbeat no questions asked. However, this is not the path for everyone. This is my path and these are my feelings and I am grateful for the those who have been our support system. I am most grateful for my faith and testimony that God has a plan for each of us and this happens to be my plan.
4 comments:
It's interesting to read this because there are people who say to me, "I couldn't do that" or "I don't know how you can go a whole year without your husband, let alone two." Or my personal favorite, "My husband was gone one weekend hunting and I cried every day." It bothered me a lot the first time he was gone for a year, but in this second deployment, I've come to realize that these sweet, well-meaning but completely misguided people aren't being mean, just are simply (and awkwardly) trying to convey their awe that you are triumphing over what they consider to be impossible odds. I COULDN'T go through what you've gone through - that's why Heavenly Father didn't ask me to. There are people who COULDN'T go through what I'm going through - that's why they haven't been required to. Our mortal experience is tailored for us as individuals to learn lessons that we couldn't learn any other way. (But that's a whole other story...) I admire you that you've found your way to attain the thing you want most. Even if I'm one of the awkward ones to convey that. :)
I agree with the above comment. You are amazing and I admire you for pressing forward and trying to keep your head held high in such hard times. I am SURE that I have been one of those insensitive people at one time or another with you and I am sincerely sorry. Perhaps this current comment is one of those--I hope not. Although I have not struggled with infertility to your degree I do understand a little and I know that desire for a baby would never dwindle. You, as would I, would do whatever it takes. I am praying for you for this to work. I know that God has a plan for you and I KNOW without a doubt in my mind that He means for you to be a mother. Whether it'll happen this time around I don't know but I really hope so and feel positive. No matter what happens I hope you know you can turn to me for anything you need--I'll be there.
thank you for posting that. it is a good reminder of how meaningful words are and how much they affect people. i hope you know how amazing you are and if i could take some of the load of your plate i would in a heart beat!
Sal, you are so right about how meaningful words can be and how they affect someone. People don't truly realize how much words can hurt. Reading this made me think about how people react to me when I share with them that I have a liver disease (autoimmune hepatitis). Instead of asking me about it, they assume that its like hepatitis and that I got it through a blood transfusion (since knowing me they wouldn't think its from drug use or sexual promiscuity) and that its not at all a serious illness - for the record its not like that at all. The truth is that it is a serious illness, I've been on and off meds for years and sometimes I have such horrid pain that I just want to scream bloody murder - but they don't need to hear that, because they won't get it and they don't want to hear the ugly truth. They just want to hear that I'm good and that is that. That's why I never really share about my illness, except with close friends and family. I get tired of explaining to people the reality of my sickness and the fact that by brushing it off, they are offending me and trivializing a serious/real part of my life. I just try to remember that they aren't trying to be rude or anything, they just don't know what to say or how to convey what they really want to say. I can't even imagine how difficult it is for you to hear those comments about your infertility and undergoing IVF. All I do know is that you are one strong woman to not only be going through all of this, but you are also brave for sharing it all with us. Thanks for this post! It really made me think about the ways in which we respond to others and how our responses can really influence/affect them.
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