Held

We Love You, Jenni

2011-12-07T05:00:00.002-05:00

Jenni Saake, founder of Hannah's Prayer Ministries, had multiple strokes at the end of October. She has had many ups and downs over the last month and a half, but is doing fine mentally and is conversing well.

Jenni means so much to so many of us. If she has touched your life in any way, would you consider leaving her a note of encouragement in the comments section? Please keep her and her family in prayer.

He Leads Me

2011-10-26T05:00:00.001-04:00

I stood in the choir loft between songs, my heart yearning to comfort the couples I saw coming forward as our worship minister asked for anyone with prayer needs to come to the altar. I wondered how many of those couples experienced infertility or child loss. “Comfort them, Lord,” I prayed silently, “Let them know they are not alone. Give them hope in you, Lord.”

Sunday after Sunday I wondered if the Lord was prompting me to start an infertility ministry. “Maybe I ought to say something to someone about this,” I thought weekly. Monday after Monday I forgot!

One afternoon I received a phone call from our church's women's ministry asking if I'd be willing to help organize or set up general women's ministry events. We were new to town and that sounded like a great way to get involved! I agreed to help out and was about to hang up when I hesitatingly said, “Actually, I'm glad you called...” and I shared of the Holy Spirit's prompting I had experienced in the choir loft.

Within a month I met with our church's counseling ministry, and as if God Himself had flung open the doors to usher me in, planned to start a group in the fall of 2010!

As the time approached, I became overwhelmed. What if the women came flocking and we had a huge group? Would I be able to lead such a group? A dear online friend experienced in these things cautioned me that I might find a lot smaller group than I expected. “Of course that might be true,” I thought, “but it's such a big church! My guess is that we'll have a pretty good turnout.”

Isn't it nifty how God ushered me in to leadership, my head filled with big hopes, and then sent me a sweet mentor to remind me that this was His undertaking and not mine? That He is the leader and not me. A good thing too, as our first semester's membership averaged about two women a week – including me!

By the end of the spring semester three of us met regularly. One conceived! Over the summer we switched ministries from the counseling ministry to women's ministry. A sweet, newlywed friend of mine who suspected she would have difficulty conceiving joined. Then I met another new friend at a party, and she joined. Then a potential co-leader joined! Now there are five of us - a little family.

I'm not sure why more women haven't joined us, but wouldn't it be like God to form this group for one lonely soul? Perhaps the whole purpose of our little group is to lead just one person to Him? Maybe the group is for me – to show me how to love and pray for others close to me, so that I can better serve and lead my children with whom God has blessed me. I don't know why God formed this group, but I know He did.

2 Corinthians 1:2-4 says that we are to comfort others with the hope with which we've been comforted. That's what we strive to do. In my heart, I know the ultimate purpose of our group is to point others to the source of all comfort – the Lord Jesus Christ. Adoption, conception, and childbirth may be by-products of this group. But more importantly, we are learning to look to Him for fulfillment and not to our life circumstances. I am learning this too, as God leads “my” group.

Amy is a lover of life, music, and yarn. She is passionate about open adoption. Amy tries not to take life too seriously - she once took a picture of herself wearing a tiara in the fertility doc's office - but she is serious about pointing others to the source of all comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Author Website: Blessed by Adoption & Birth

Asking Why

2011-10-19T07:20:00.002-04:00

Questions swirled in my head. They wrapped tight around my heart, pulling down, into darkness. My heart beat wildly to break free from the compression as the questions kept twisting around my heart tighter and tighter.

Why did my husband and I have to lose two babies? Why are my fallopian tubes shredded? Why when others abuse their children can we have no more? Why are You not giving us children when we know You are able? Why?

My throat tightened as tears poured down my cheeks. Would I drown in a wave of unanswered whys? Would my heart actually stop beating from the pressure?

Why? It is a heavy question to ask. But it isn’t wrong to ask. David asks God why many times in the Psalms. Jesus asks God why on the cross. We just have to ask God why for the right reasons and in the right way. How do we ask God why?

Understand that the answer to your why is not the goal of asking why. God rarely chooses to let us know why this side of heaven. His word tells us that His ways are not ours. Instead the goal of asking why is drawing closer to God.
When you ask God why, be ready to listen to Him. Often He is there whispering words of gentle correction, encouragement, hope, and truth. You just have to be quiet and still enough to hear Him.
Remember God’s character. He is trustworthy, faithful, loving, and He has plans for you. Praise God for who He is while you ask Him why. This will remind you the honor due our Lord.
Accept God’s answer – even if He never answers. Continually rehashing the same question with God over and over again keeps you stuck. Instead allow your whys to develop an intimacy between you and God that could not have happened otherwise.

As I posed my doubts, fears, concerns and whys to my Heavenly Father, the cords around my heart relaxed. I could breathe again. At times I still fight this battle. My whys, doubts and frustrations resurface and I struggle anew. But God is patient. He listens to me. When I ask Him why the right way, God draws me nearer to Him. Perhaps that is why He allows this battle to recur. That I may draw closer to Him.

Are you ready to draw closer to God? Let’s start by asking Him why the right way.

Angela Mackey lives in the Arkansas River Valley with her husband and three children. She desires to honor God in all she does and says. She writes about faith, learning to let God’s word transform your thinking, parenting, infertility, and anything else that comes to her mind. You can connect with her on her blog at www.rethinkingmythinking.com. She is also on twitter www.twitter.com/Rethinkingme and on facebook at www.facebook.com/RethinkingMyThinking.

Dear Baby

2011-10-15T07:55:00.001-04:00

We had been trying to get pregnant for 10 months, and it felt like forever! Those 10 months were the hardest months of my infertility journey. I had not yet incorporated the new experience of infertility into my identity. After awhile it became such a part of who I was that it felt familiar to me, but then it felt like a huge, scary, monster with a wide, gaping mouth coming to devour me and nobody else.

On a Friday I picked up a home pregnancy test on my way home from graduate school. It was faint, but clearly positive. I told my husband that day, and we were excited, yet cautious. I had some spotting that night, but it stopped quickly.

A few days later I took another test, waiting to see a darker test line proving that the pregnancy was progressing. The line was still there but just as faint. I went for a blood test the next day.

"The test is borderline," the nurse said. I can't tell you how invalidated I felt when the nurse called my baby "borderline."

She told me I could expect to experience the physical miscarriage within 2-4 weeks. What? My baby is dead and I have to wait weeks for her to pass? But, God is merciful. It was over by the next morning. I went to brunch with a friend, to feel connected, and then got a pedicure. I picked a red color, but couldn't stand the thought of looking at blood red toes for weeks. I changed it to purple.

I wrote a letter to baby, who we named Noah, while I was waiting for the results of the second test. Here it is. It is not edited.

***

Dear Baby,

God and I love you. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Your Daddy and I want you and love you so much.

The nurse says that you might not be real - that you might be something other than God knows you are - a person. I don't believe her, but I really don't know what to think. Only Jesus knows. See, it goes to show that God knows us and loves us more than anyone.

I imagine you to be bright and precious. You will have blue eyes like us. You will smell sweet and have a fuzzy head with a soft spot that we will kiss. I will rock you and sing to you. We will play and smile at each other.

I have barely had a drop of caffeine since I found out about you. I've hardly had any sleep, either b/c I have been too excited. I've mostly stayed away from sugar, too. I try not to push myself too hard at the gym, either, so you won't get too tired. You are just an embryo still, but you need to learn to pace yourself. So far, what is your favorite thing to eat? It's too early for me to tell.

I love you, Baby. I give you to God, Baby. Here is Your new child, Lord. I pray that you would let me be Baby's mommy on earth for a long, long time. I accept Your will, Lord. Amen.

***

We had a baby – in heaven. I'm so thankful. It doesn't make sense, not to some, but I still trust the Lord. How can I not? He has been so faithful to us.

Amy is a lover of life, music, and yarn. She is passionate about open adoption. Amy tries not to take life too seriously - she once took a picture of herself wearing a tiara in the fertility doc's office - but she is serious about pointing others to the source of all comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Author Website: Blessed by Adoption & Birth

My Own Race

2011-10-12T05:00:00.002-04:00

I was at church, sipping a latte in the lobby and watching parents wrangle their little ones -- getting them to Sunday School classes, answering questions, coordinating snacks and sippy cups and diaper bags. And as I watched, I felt young, despite my 36 years. Am I really an adult, without those responsibilities? Aside from two furry dogs, I have no one depending on me for the essentials of life.

Then I thought back to my own heartbreak and pain and sorrow, and the growth that resulted from that. These parents -- are they truly adults if they have not dealt with that? If your illusions have not been shattered, if your heart is still in one undamaged piece, if you have not had the experience of longing for something for years without receiving it in spite of soul-wrenching prayer, can you really be a grown-up?

God nudged me, and I remembered: there is nothing to compare. Hebrews 12:1 admonishes us to "run with perseverance the race marked out for us." That means that God has a path marked specifically for me, and it doesn't work to try to run a race marked for someone else. He didn't prepare me for some other person's race. He equipped me for my own event. The run is hard sometimes, but my Father is there to encourage me and help me. Being on the path God chose for me can be hard enough. How much harder would it be if I decided to be on a different road? Sure, it might look better or more exciting, or maybe it looks easier or more grown-up. But from here, I can't see the pot holes or narrow passages or detours that make it all wrong for me.

It is my job to run the race God has for me, focusing on my own performance in this experience. Not to wonder about or wish for someone else's race. Each one of God's daughters has her own course to maintain. Thinking about each other's road will only get us off track. God provides to me the experiences I need to grow closer to Him, and he provides you the experiences you need. Because the Lord created us to be unique, our lives must also be unique, and that is by design. God didn't use cookie cutters to create us.

He fashioned you to be different from everyone else. Your path will be just as wonderfully individual.

A life-long Hoosier, Karen spends her time running, reading, writing, knitting, and rolling her eyes at her husband's bad jokes. She blogs at Oldfangled.net.

Hold Firm

2011-10-09T08:44:00.001-04:00

"He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it."

~Titus 1:9

WNTS: Just Adopt

2011-10-05T05:00:00.002-04:00

“If you want children so badly, just adopt,” a friend told me.

“Just adopt. If only it were that simple,” I thought to myself.

For me, it was never a question of if we would adopt. It was a question of when. I grew up in a family surrounded by adoption – there were adopted persons, adoptive parents, and birthparents in my family. Before we married, we had plans to have a few biological children and then adopt more children. I had plans for 12 total. My husband agreed, but was a little skeptical about the number! I would read, “God sets the lonely in families” (Psalm 68:6a), and was sure He was talking about my family.

When we started trying to conceive, we trusted that God was in control and that the children would come along in His timing. Months turned into a year. Years started adding up. And then comments from well-meaning friends and family started piling on. The hardest one for me was “just adopt.”

Why would “just adopt” be so difficult for someone who had always planned on adopting?

It wasn't my plan. I hadn't ever imagined my life that way. I like to plan and arrange and, yes, control things. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be in my mind. “Just adopt” required surrender of my will.

It isn't easy. Adoption involves a lot of decisions (infant, older child, domestic, international, open, closed, etc.), a lot of paperwork, and a lot of preparation before you can be even approved to adopt. Then there's the waiting (for social workers, for a referral, for the child to come home, for court, etc.) Oftentimes, there are changes of plans, which again required surrender of my will.

It doesn't cure infertility. This is the most difficult one. I've heard it said, “Adoption cures childlessness, but not infertility.” Adoption would place a child in my arms, but it wouldn't fill my barren womb. That's not to imply that adoption is “less than” in any way. A child we adopted would still be our child in every way, but I would still miss out on the experiences of pregnancy and delivery and everything that goes along with it. My longing to conceive and bear children was different than my desire to adopt. Completing one of those dreams would not fulfill the other.

Adoption is the path many couples longing to be parents take, but it isn't “just adopt.”

The pain of infertility is eased by the healing hand of God on a person's heart, not by placing a child in a person's arms.

We did adopt. We are still infertile. They are two separate identities that can harmonize when approached as such.

Mary enjoys pursuing health and fitness and has a secret love of fashion. She loves to sing, especially when she and her husband have the opportunity to lead others in worship of our magnificent God.

Plans

2011-09-25T05:00:00.000-04:00

For I know the plans I have for you,”

declares the LORD,

“plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.

~ Jeremiah 29:11

He Would

2011-09-19T05:00:00.022-04:00

He would probably gloat when we found out she was a girl.

He would laugh and poke my belly when she kicked him for the first time.

He would be drive entirely too fast to the hospital when it was time.

He would be brave during labor and braver during delivery.

He would hold her for the first time like she was the most breakable thing on the planet.

He would love her fiercely.

He would pretend to be grossed out the first time she peed on him.

He would get up in the middle of the night just to see if she was ok.

He would brag the day she could hold her head up on her own.

He would be nervous and excited the first time she crawled...then walked...then ran.

He would beam from ear to ear the first time she said "daddy."

He would love her unconditionally.

He would pick her up and hold her tight every single time she cried.

He would get defensive if someone else so much as looked at her cross-eyed.

He would kiss her boo-boos.

He would tuck her in at night and read stories.

He would pray over her and with her and for her and about her.

He would love her tenderly.

He would worry about her.

He would make sure she knew he would always be there.

He would take all of her pain and fears away if he could.

He would play with her for hours on end.

He would teach her guitar one day.

He would love her uncontrollably.

He would be a good dad...

And one day, God willing, he will get the chance.

Heather is a devoted wife and math teacher, but her greatest love? Jesus Christ! She is passionate about international missions, scrumptious dark chocolate, and making people snort water out their noses. She and her husband are on the bumpy & exciting road of foster-to-adopt while still riding that infertility/loss rollercoaster.

Author Website: Reach In, Reach Out, Reach Up

Cast Your Care

2011-09-18T05:00:00.001-04:00

Casting the whole of your care

[all your anxieties, all your worries,

all your concerns, once and for all]

on Him, for He cares for you affectionately

and cares about you watchfully.

~ 1Peter 5:7 (AMP)

Letter To My Unconceived Children

2011-09-16T05:00:00.021-04:00

“There are two types of loneliness. One is when you know who you are missing, and the other is when you don’t.”

You, my children, are the second type. I wrote that quote long before I knew how much I would miss you, how much I would long for you, how long I would wait for you.

I waited for your daddy. I waited to be healed. I waited through daddy’s sickness. I waited for his restoration.

I waited through all the diagnoses and in hospital rooms and waiting rooms and recovery rooms.

I waited patiently and I waited in impatience and frustration. I waited through doctor's words and internet explanations and forgotten dreams and lost hope.

I waited in fear and anger and confusion and lots and lots of tears.

Then I questioned what it was that I have spent my life waiting for. “Wait for the LORD. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for the LORD,” Psalm 27:14 (NASB).

I am not told to wait for healing. And I am not told to wait for a baby. No, I am told to wait upon the Lord.

If I am to be strong in this waiting, if I am to find the courage that it will take, then I must wait on Him. As my hope is renewed, I am believing God to give you to me and daddy in His perfect timing.

I now wait in hope, in Him. I am so excited to meet you, to watch you grow, to be your mommy. Until then, know that I am waiting and I miss you already.

Love,
Mama

“CiCi” and her hubbins live in Colorado and are always looking for a new adventure. She has a passion for sharing her story to encourage others. She especially loves writing, taking pictures of life’s little joys, and borrowing other people’s kiddos as a nanny.

Do Not Fear

2011-09-11T05:00:00.004-04:00

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

~Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)

He Saw Me

2011-09-09T05:00:00.012-04:00

I held the phone receiver tightly as the nurse on the other end of the line said, “Congratulations! You’re pregnant.”

When I didn’t respond, she asked, “Is this not good news?”

Taking a deep breath, I said, “Well, I’ve been bleeding for about three weeks, and the doctor said that if I was pregnant, I was probably already miscarrying.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

And so began one of the hardest experiences I’d ever gone through. As it turned out, I was miscarrying, and soon I was in my Fort Worth Ob/Gyn’s office for more blood work, sitting in the waiting room with several very pregnant women. Talk about pouring salt on a wound! It seemed that my body didn’t want to get rid of the baby quickly, so I was forced to visit the office weekly for what seemed like months. (I’m sure it was just a few times.)

It was 1996, and I was a young newlywed and seminary student who had longed to be a mom since before I could remember. Miscarriage wasn’t something I ever pictured going through—and I was devastated.

Friends and family members tried to comfort me, but most of them said the wrong things: “You’re young; you can try again,” or “It’s just nature’s way of taking care of things.” Their ignorance of what I was going through only made me feel worse. My hubby, Carey, also felt the loss deeply—and shared my frustration at the hurtful comments we received.

The weekend after I lost our baby, Carey and I drove to an amphitheater a couple of towns over in Glen Rose, Texas. We were cast members in a life of Christ production, and Carey had a lead role. After the cast-wide prayer meeting which preceded the show—in which I tearfully asked for prayer—I received permission to sit out of the performance and watch the show. As the overture began, I took my seat in the audience.

During the first scene, a grandfather and his two grandchildren explore the Texas hill country and make a campfire. The grandfather tells his grandchildren about the life of Jesus as singers, actors and dancers re-enact the story around them.

With a heavy heart—and feeling very alone—I watched as the grandchildren explored an abandoned cemetery. “This one was just a baby,” said one of the children.

“I think it’s sad when babies die,” said the other child. I sat up straighter. I had never paid attention to those lines before. Tears began to fall as I sensed God showing me, in a very specific way, that He saw my pain. He knew what I was going through—and He knew exactly what to say.

“It is sad,” said the actor playing the grandfather. “But every baby is special to God…and one baby was so special, he was promised by prophets.” The production continued as actors portraying prophets began to sing on stage…but I wasn’t paying attention anymore.

Instead, I was thanking God and shaking my head in amazement at the comfort from a very sweet, thoughtful Heavenly Father.

My baby was special to Him--and I was, too.

Dena Dyer is a wife, mom, and author who lives in Amarillo, Texas. She loves cuddling with her kids, date nights with her hubby, and speaking to women (it's about the only girl time she gets!). To learn more, visit her blog (Mother Inferior) at www.denadyer.com.

Intimacy In The Shadows

2011-09-05T05:00:00.020-04:00

I hesitate. Wondering how to phrase my answer – how much to divulge.

She asked me the dreaded question. “How many kids do you have?”

Why should it be so hard to answer that question?

How much of the truth do I tell her?

The answer sticks in my throat, my tongue twists in knots, and my heart sinks.

Can she tell how painful this question is for me? My cheeks redden. What must she think?

The full truth is I have 25 children. That isn’t the answer she wants to hear. I know.

Twenty-two are in heaven.

Two I held in my fallopian tubes. Both ruptured, leaving natural conception impossible.

Ten babies were held in a petri dish, I never even got to hold them in my womb. They were whisked to Jesus’ side.

Six I held in my womb, but they never implanted. They slipped from this physical world into eternity.

One made it to nearly seven weeks gestation and stopped growing. He was not intended for earth, but I cannot wait to know him in heaven.

“Three,” I manage to tell her. I smile through the pain. She may never know the fight, loss, or grief that accompanied my quest for three. She may never realize that three does not seem near enough when 22 are awaiting me in eternity.

But you know and understand – you who walked similar roads or are walking those roads now. In the midst of the loss and grief there is something I learned and continue to learn.

I learn it along with David. He says in Psalm 23:4, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”

Infertility feels like the shadow of death. Many days the grief and longing feel suffocating. Oh, but there is something else permeating the darkness of those days. It is the presence of God. He is there in the valley with us, using His rod and staff to keep us on the right paths. In those dark days we have the opportunity to develop an intimate relationship with Him who is able to give us children, but may not.

I would never wish the dark shadow of death days on anyone, but I would never give up those days for the intimacy they developed between my Savior and me.

What has He done for you in your dark infertile days?

Angela Mackey lives in the Arkansas River Valley with her husband and three children. She desires to honor God in all she does and says. She writes about faith, learning to let God’s word transform your thinking, parenting, infertility, and anything else that comes to her mind. You can connect with her on her blog at www.rethinkingmythinking.com. She is also on twitter www.twitter.com/Rethinkingme and on facebook at www.facebook.com/RethinkingMyThinking.

Overcome

2011-09-04T05:00:00.001-04:00

I have told you these things,

so that in me you may have peace.

In this world you will have trouble.

But take heart! I have overcome the world

~ John 16:33 (NIV)

A Kind Of Comfort

2011-09-02T05:00:00.018-04:00

It was a long day. I had driven all over town, getting errands done. It was hot and people were everywhere, adding to my frustration. All I really wanted was to go home, put the groceries away, and relax. In fact I NEEDED to do just that!

Among the chaos of the day were reminders forcing their way into my mind and heart, making the day even harder. When most people see an infant, toddler ,or pregnant woman, they smile, ask to see the baby, or talk to the woman asking, “When are you due?” I am the opposite of “normal.” When I encounter these things, I run the opposite direction. In my world, they are hurtful reminders of all I’ve suffered through. And that day it was all too much.

I hurried out of the store and loaded my groceries into my vehicle, thankful I could head home at last. As I put the vehicle into reverse, I looked up at my rearview mirror.

A woman stood staring at the back of my vehicle. Again my frustration started to build. What was she doing? Didn’t she realize I was needed to get home?

Then I noticed what she was looking at. My decal. Infant footprints complete with a halo and wings and surrounded by the words “Proud parents of angels.” I watched as the woman brought her hand up and gently brushed away a tear. Then she turned and started to walk away. As she passed my window our eyes met. In those few short seconds, our hearts connected. We were strangers, yet we were linked together through the pain of losing a child. We had walked the same path. The woman raised her mouth in a sad smile and continued on her way.

As I headed home, my heart was a bit lighter. I may be a grieving mother, but I realized that I am not alone on this journey. God created a community of grieving mothers to lean on and encourage each other. To draw strength and comfort from. Even the ones who may not speak to each other are connected by the part of us already in heaven.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
~ 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (NIV)

I spend my time managing my home, helping run a cattle business, doing crafts, cooking and playing on Hannah's forums! After losing 3 children, my heart has been lead to offer comfort to other women who have lost a child.

Joy In Him

2011-08-31T05:00:00.029-04:00

“Mom, will you please wait for me?” The questioner was a pretty brown-eyed, brown-haired girl, perhaps 10 years old. “Sure, honey” came her mother’s ready response. The question and answer came from the occupants of the stalls next to me in the washroom at church one Sunday morning. It was a simple question and an innocuous reply, but I found them to be heart stabbing that day. I never know when something is going to strike me just so and cause a rush of pain. Convincing myself that 10 minutes prior to the service starting was no time for a meltdown, I quelled the threatening tears and joined the other ladies at the sinks, to discuss the abnormally frigid April morning and how 10:00 is the perfect time for the Sunday morning church service to start.

That brief mother-daughter conversation stayed with me throughout the day though, and the pain it brought came readily to mind as the Scriptures were opened for our evening service.

The LORD is righteous in all His ways,
Gracious in all His works.
The LORD is near to all who call upon Him,
To all who call upon Him in truth.
He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him;
He also will hear their cry and save them.
~ Psalm 145:17-19 (NKJV)

Verse 19 especially brought tears to my eyes and a prayer to my heart – “Lord, You know that my desire is to have a child but You have not fulfilled that desire!” Even as the thought went through my mind, I knew the answer, and this was reaffirmed by Pastor Greg during the sermon. God is righteous in all His ways, and for some this means the burden of unanswered prayer. At least, the answer is not what is so fervently prayed for. Yet, the Lord is still righteous, and the path of my life is for my eternal good and His great glory. Verse 17 also says that He is gracious. God is not a miser, He is not a scrooge. He gives grace freely, He loves abundantly, and this is seen most clearly in our suffering and now ascended Saviour.

But what about my unfulfilled desires? Pastor Greg addressed this question directly. God has not intended us to find our fulfillment here on earth. But He does intend to fulfill every desire of His children. At this time, He is purifying, sanctifying, perhaps even purging our desires, and - in the end - we will be satisfied. He gives us Himself, our Saviour Jesus, and in Him we have all fullness. One day, when we are purged from our sin, loosed from the ties of this earth, then Jesus will be enough. In fact, Jesus is more than enough now, but our sin keeps us from seeing that. But then, then we will see and fully know that He is enough and we will rejoice with exceeding joy. So let us now seek to find our satisfaction in Christ, and to revel - yes, revel - in the fullness that is ours through and in Him. That’s where the joy is to be found. Even if God were to answer our prayer for a child, my husband and I could still only find fullness and fulfillment in Him. How great is our God!

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ.
~ Ephesians 1:3 (NKJV)

Karen, a Canadian girl, is a wife, daughter, sister, aunt, friend, and a servant of the King. She and her husband are on the infertility journey, finding peace in the God of Peace. Karen loves cats, dabbles in cooking and gardening, and works at a Christian bookstore.

A New Song

2011-08-28T05:00:00.000-04:00

I waited patiently for the LORD to help me,

and he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the pit of despair,

out of the mud and the mire.

He set my feet on solid ground

and steadied me as I walked along.

He has given me a new song to sing,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see what he has done and be amazed.

They will put their trust in the LORD.

~ Psalm 40:1-3 (NLT)

Rainbows

2011-08-26T05:00:00.015-04:00

She was supposed to be our Rainbow Baby.

A year before I’d never heard the term. But since the second-trimester death of our daughter Naomi, I’d heard it a lot. A rainbow baby was the one that followed a loss. The one who was the promise of joy after the storm of loss and grief. The reminder that the ravages of that storm do not destroy hope and dreams.

So when I had a positive pregnancy test six months after we lost Naomi, I thought that’s what this baby was. Our little rainbow. The one who would not exist if Naomi had survived. I struggled with how to rejoice in her life when it came only because of the loss of her older sister, but at the same time my spirit soared to experience life in my womb again.

Then the complications started. At six weeks, I had some bleeding. No, God, not again. At seven, it got worse. I was diagnosed with a subchorionic hematoma, but our baby still had a heartbeat. We saw it on an ultrasound. Twice. The second time stronger than the first. Where there’s life, there’s hope, we told ourselves. She’s our little fighter. Our miracle baby. Our rainbow.

But by eight weeks, her heart had stopped. Another storm was brewing. Our rainbow was gone.

For the next three weeks, I waited to see if I would miscarry naturally. I carried our baby in my body, saying a long goodbye and trying to make sense of God’s will. Everyone had told me our first loss was a fluke, that there was no reason I couldn’t conceive again and carry a child to term. What had gone wrong?

I felt overwhelmed by sorrow, and scared of the future. My first lost had devastated me. How could I survive another storm?

And yet, what I experienced in those days was an overwhelming sense of God’s presence, the fulfillment of Isaiah 43:2, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”

The promise of the rainbow in Genesis was that God would never again destroy the world with a flood. There would be rain again, but no matter how bad it got, we could remember that the waters would recede, the rain would stop. We would not be destroyed.

My second pregnancy loss taught me that loss and grief don’t have to destroy me either. God is with me in the midst of it, preserving my faith. The lessons that He taught me after our first loss about His love and power stayed with me through our second loss. He had not changed. And though at times I thought I would not survive the pain again, that knowledge gave me a glimpse of the rainbow behind the clouds.

We named our baby Kyria Hope. The hope she gave me was not of another baby to mark the end of our storm of loss and infertility. It was the reminder that God would not abandon me in the storm, that He is the keeper of all of His promises; that when my hope is in Him, I will not be swept away by the flood waters of sorrow and pain, but will rise to the top of them, dripping wet and gulping for air, but upheld by my Father’s strong hand.

Kristi and her husband are Yankees transplanted in South Carolina, where they met in seminary over ten years ago. Their ministry, Naomi's Circle, is an outreach to parents who have lost babies during pregnancy or shortly after birth. In her "free" time, she enjoys reading, handbells, and writing.

Author's Blog: This Side of Heaven

Focus

2011-08-22T05:00:00.005-04:00

Did you know that if you stand under a night sky and hold a dime in your hand at arm's length, you obscure the light and beauty of millions of stars? Millions. The closer you move that dime to your eye, the more stars disappear from sight.

At the start of the 2009 Hannah's Prayer retreat, our speaker, Ginger Garrett, asked us to decide what we would focus on that weekend. Would we clutch that dime close to our eye, seeing only our own pain and grief, or would we set it aside to gain access to the light and beauty we had been blocking out?

No stranger to infertility, Ginger told us some of her struggles of pregnancy loss and infertility. As she shared details that many of us related to, she introduced the idea of a ticker tape that runs through our minds. "I was so focused on what I wanted, that all I could see was women who had what I wanted. Why does she have what I want?" That question wormed its way into so many thoughts and actions; her dime was as close to her eye as it could be.

Over time, through the work of the Spirit, the recurring thought in her head wasn't, "Why does she have what I want?" One day she realized it had changed to, "What do I have that she needs?"

There was a mad rush as everyone in the room hurried to jot that down. That thought shook me more than I wanted to let on, and I've been processing it ever since.

1 Peter 4:10 says, "Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms." In the margin I have written, "You never get any gifts in Christ's service to benefit yourself; they are always for the benefit of others."

The gifts we have are not given to make us feel good about ourselves. I can't remember how long it took me to realize that my writing has very little to do with me, and everything to do with how it reaches others. Our gifts are given for the benefit of those around us. Sometimes that means taking the focus off my own pain, and reaching out to a mom in need, even if holding her baby is the most gut wrenching thing I do that day.

As the body of Christ, we need to be aware of our own gifts and the needs of others. If you are convinced that you have no gifts that would benefit those around you, I'm here to tell you you're wrong. Plain and simple. God wouldn't graft anyone into the body through the saving work of Christ to sit on the sidelines. If He's supplying gifts to His people for His people, He's not showing partiality. There are no bench warmers in the body of Christ.

Let's not pretend it's an easy work. I keep going back to that phrase I read awhile ago: "Faith makes things possible, not easy." It's so true. Setting that dime down, taking the focus off our own pain and grief to be effective workers in God's kingdom...that's hard work. But we are equipped; check out Ephesians 6:10-20 if you need a reminder. God doesn't send you into the playing field unequipped. If you need a reminder of your gifts, ask Him. You'll be amazed how quickly you'll realize the needs of those around you when you're aware of the gifts He's given you.

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

Made Right

2011-08-21T05:00:00.000-04:00

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us.

~ Romans 5:1 (NLT)

Our Adoption Miracle

2011-08-19T05:00:00.007-04:00

We were actually doing it – adopting! We sat in our agency's three-day adoption seminar with five other couples all aglow with the deepening realization that we might soon be parents. Plus, there were M&Ms! Talk about unmerited favor.

After the seminar we all kept in touch as, couple by couple, were matched with expectant moms each considering an adoption plan.

A few months later, the day after the Lord lovingly led us through a failed adoption match, we received an email that the agency wanted to show our profile to an expectant mom. We said yes! Days later we sat at Chili's after church and I told husband, “I really feel like this is our baby.” Somewhere in my spirit I felt His Spirit telling me so. Alas, we didn't hear back.

Several weeks later, the night before our fourth wedding anniversary, my sweet husband asked me what I would like for our anniversary. I half-joking yet wistfully told him, “A baby.”

The next day I missed a call from our adoption agency. They didn't leave a message, which I thought was strange, so called my husband at work. Without telling him why I was calling, I coyly asked him, “So, what are you doing?” I could hear a slight hesitation in his voice as he lied and told me he was just making reservations for our anniversary dinner! My shoulders slumped as I then fessed up that I had gotten a call from our agency but hadn't received a message.

But he had. A beautiful, petite, red-haired expectant mom and her husband had chosen us to possibly parent their baby. Well, sort of. The couple had first chosen a different family but the match hadn't worked out. We were the dad's first choice, but the mom's second.

Hmmm. Why on earth would a couple in the adoption process turn down a match? We belabored this question as we drove up to meet what would soon turn out to be our baby's birth parents. We met them, liked them, and could not figure out why the other couple had said no. Two weeks and two days later we brought our son home from the hospital.

While we were out of town waiting for Erik to be born, our baby's sweet birthmom told us the name of the other couple. It was one of the other couples in our adoption seminar with whom we had kept in touch. I'm all about openness in adoption, as anyone who has spent any time talking to me about adoption knows, and I felt a stirring in my heart to let our friends know that we had adopted that baby.

There are a lot of things we won't understand until we get to heaven, but God graciously let us in on this mystery. Our friends had met this couple and had liked them just fine, but after a weekend of prayer and fasting they felt like the Lord was telling them this was not their baby. The husband wrote to me in an e-mail, “We were hoping that this was your baby.”

Thousands of miracles occur to form a family. In the case of adoption, not only the division of cells and the development of a tiny human being, but preparation of the heart, will, and spirit of both birth and adoptive parents. Why did our friends say no to this match? Because they were in tune with God's Spirit and He said no. God had planned all along that we were to be Erik's parents. God's plan will not be thwarted. Will you trust him?

Amy is a lover of life, music, and yarn. She is passionate about open adoption. Amy tries not to take life too seriously - she once took a picture of herself wearing a tiara in the fertility doc's office - but she is serious about pointing others to the source of all comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Author Website: Blessed by Adoption & Birth

The End of Jealousy

2011-08-15T05:00:00.009-04:00

A peaceful heart leads to a healthy body; jealousy is like cancer in the bones.
~ Proverbs 14:30 (NLT)

My best friend’s mom was in liver failure. I watched as Laura flew back and forth from Maryland to Indiana time after time to be with her mom in the hospital. Day after day, week after week, Laura gave me updates on her mom’s progress. Better one day – and she would come home. Worse the next – and she would consider flying back. She took weeks off work and eventually arranged to work remotely.

Laura was also dealing with a challenging second pregnancy. I normally felt a sting of jealousy about a friend’s pregnancy. I tried to fight against the envy and resulting bitterness, but it was a constant challenge. This one situation was a catalyst of drastic change for me.

I thought of my friend’s beautiful first child and her ability to get pregnant a second time. And then I thought of all the difficulties she was going through with her current pregnancy and the heart-wrenching, life-threatening battle her mom was fighting, and lost after a few short months.

How could I be jealous of my friend – even when she had the one thing I so greatly desired? She was going through situations so dreadful I would like to avoid them forever!

That was when God taught me an invaluable lesson. Jealousy and envy focus in on one part of another person’s life – the good parts. Jealousy fails to recognize the not-so-good parts. How can I compare a person’s good things only to my entire life – good and bad – and then declare that she has it better or easier?

One-sided comparisons will always result in envy and resentment because they are skewed. They aren’t based on truth. The truth was that I couldn’t be jealous of my friend’s child and pregnancy when I saw how difficult her life was. One life isn’t better than the other.

If I am going to compare someone’s life to my own, I must do so by looking at the whole of her life, not just the things I covet. Whole life to whole life. Do I really want to trade lives? When I honestly consider this question, the answer is no.

That is not to say I have this all figured out. There are times when I still struggle with this truth, when I feel the weeds of jealousy taking root again in my heart. But God is quick to remind me of this difficult lesson. I do not have it worse than everyone else.

We all face different challenges because of the fallen world we live in. That knowledge doesn't necessarily make my struggles easier to deal with, but it’s healthy to acknowledge that I'm not the only one that hurts. That acknowledgement can lead to a life free of jealousy and its resulting bitterness.

Rachel and her husband live in Maryland, home of the world's finest crab cakes. Her heart for women facing the struggle of infertility has led to an active, encouraging role on Hannah's Prayer Community Forums. When she isn't laughing with her husband, Rachel can be found cooking, blogging, and hanging with girlfriends.

Author website: Portrait Rachel

He Delivers

2011-08-14T05:00:00.003-04:00

The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them;

he delivers them from all their troubles.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

~ Psalm 34:17-18 (NIV)

Seven

2011-08-12T05:00:00.004-04:00

I was twenty five years old.

I was standing in a Shopper's Drug Mart trying to decide which home pregnancy test to buy. It felt like an important decision at the time. This was the little device that was going to tell me I was pregnant, after all.

I remember wondering why home pregnancy tests came in packs of two.

I remember the young woman who slipped past me to grab a two-pack of First Response brand. I smiled at her, and she politely smiled back. I must have looked out of place there in the family planning aisle and she waved the pink box at me.

'These are the most reliable,' she said softly, and made her way to the cashier at the front of the store.

On that sunny March day, I didn't wonder why she would know that. I do now, though. Oh, do I ever.

I think of her sometimes and wonder if she knew then what I didn't... that the reason you buy a two-pack is because a pregnancy test doesn't always tell you you're pregnant. Sometimes a pregnancy test is just money down the drain, an eternal three-minute wait, and another nauseating dive on the infertility roller coaster.

I bought a single test that day. I also bought a sweet little bib that said 'I love you, Daddy' in pink and purple letters. I had it all planned out in my mind: from taking the test in the early hours of the morning to slipping upstairs to place the bib on my husband's pillow and waking him with the exciting news.

That was seven years ago... more negative home pregnancy tests and three-minute waits than I can even remember.

Sometimes in the month that marks the beginning of our hopes and dreams for kids, I think back and wonder what I would have changed. More fruitful, usually, is trying to verbalize what I've learned... to draw together lessons wrung from heartache.

I decided, seven years later, that it came down to three things:

1. God is good. Period. My circumstances don't change Him. My circumstances and heartache and grief only augment the realization that I am nothing apart from Him, and that in all things He is right beside me.

2. Hope is meant to be a free, wild-winged, tangible thing. And I don't mean the I-hope-to-have-kids-hope, but the hope that remembers that we are being fashioned for eternity. The hope that clings to the truth that this long, dark, painful road is not the end of the story, not the final word.

3. I wouldn't change it. Crazy? Maybe. But even for all the tears wept and the pillows thrown and the deep unspoken, guttural prayers that were nothing more than groans and pleas of a waiting heart, I have learned so much. The joy and peace that frames my life is whole and brilliant... a hard-fought lesson and a blessing I wouldn't exchange for anything.

I don't pretend to be off this roller coaster... the grief of infertility is one that lingers even in a joyful life as two.

But God is good. Always. In the hard stuff, in the joyful stuff and in everything in between. And it really doesn't get better than that.

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

He Never Forgets

2011-08-08T05:00:00.023-04:00

I fingered the picture frame that carried my husband and my big announcement. The little frame held an ultrasound photo of our first child with the caption, “Coming this fall.” Four rounds of clomid, shots and countless doctor appointments, and finally we received the news we had been praying for. A baby.

The little frame traveled across the country to live in the home of our baby's grandparents. It was sent with love, excitement, and so much happiness and was received with so much joy. No one knew what the future held. No one knew the baby would only be with us a few weeks before Jesus called him home.

We were later visiting where our little frame had come to live. As my eyes traveled the room, something familiar caught my attention. I knew that frame; there was no mistaking those silver filigree sides. My eyes had poured over that picture numerous times memorizing its features. Each line and swirl I had traced. The image staring back at me was not the black and white image of my baby. This picture was a picture of a living and breathing child. A child full of life and smiles. A knife stabbed my heart and twisted into my gut. My child had been replaced by a living child. A child that I did not know; a child that was not mine.

I slipped into bed as a slow steady stream of tears fell. I longed for my child to be known, to be recognized, to be remembered. I longed for THEM to remember but they didn't. After all, who remembers a baby lost at ten weeks gestation? Me. Soon my tears turned into a raging river and with such passion I screamed “WHY, God?” There was no answer and I soon cried myself to sleep.

I woke up the next morning and opened my Bible, searching for comfort. Searching for some quiet whisper from my God. The silence was just too much. I needed something from Him. And He answered my calling by giving me these words:

Remember your word to your servant,
for you have given me hope.
My comfort in my suffering is this:
Your promise preserves my life.
~ Psalms 119:49-50

His promise. Not that bad things wouldn't happen to me. Not that grief would never come. He said it would be painful; he said bad things would happen; he said people would let me down; he promised to preserve my life; he promised to be faithful; he promised to never leave me, to comfort me, to sustain me. To remember.

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.
~ Isaiah 49:16

Oh, dear Sisters. He knows your pain, He sees it, He never forgets. When the rest of the world moves on and leaves you with grief to bear, He is there to carry you. He is there to remember with you those treasured moments, even if just a few days, weeks or months. He will never replace our photo with a different one. He is there in our death and in our life! He IS the God of comfort, of all compassion, and He loves us where we are. Amen!

Carissa along with her family are Texas transplants currently living in Illinois. She tries hard to see God's rainbows in the rainstorms of life. Having struggled with infertility and loss her prayer is that her story would bring glory to his name. She loves to indulge in Christian romance novels, craft soap recipes, create cards and work in her garden.

Author Website: A Table for Eight

Come To Me

2011-08-07T05:00:00.010-04:00

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

~ Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV)

Before and After

2011-08-05T05:00:00.019-04:00

I had started to realize that I viewed my life in two parts: before we lost our child, and after we lost our child.

Everything in my world was shaken to the core. My ability to make decisions had gone out the window. I didn't trust anything I said or did to be a part of God's plan for me.

You see, before our loss I was sure.
I was sure about adoption.
I was sure about a sibling group.
I was sure about going through foster care.
I was sure about being ok with not being pregnant, or having a biological child.
I was sure.

After our loss I was uncertain.
I was uncertain that I wanted to adopt.
I was uncertain that I wanted a sibling group.
I was uncertain about going through foster care.
I was uncertain if I ever wanted to become pregnant again, or have a biological child.

Before and after.

The truth is, my life is partitioned into two parts. I was just wrong about the event in which my life was divided.

My life should be split into before Christ, and after Christ.

I need to remember where I was before Jesus. I need daily reminders of what God saved me from: a life of misery and unhappiness, of constantly seeking approval of others and material things.

Before Christ
I was uncertain of who I was.
I was uncertain of what life was supposed to be about.
I was uncertain of my purpose.

After Christ
I am sure of my identity…I am a child of God.
I am sure about what my life should be about…being molded into the image of Christ.
I am sure of my purpose…to glorify God and further His kingdom.

My life needs to stop revolving around my grief and start revolving around my God again. That doesn't mean I won't be sad or upset or downright angry when I think about what we have lost, what our marriage has gone through. I am not trying to minimize my pain or the pain of anyone else who has lost a child. I am trying to cling to the God that I know holds my future in his hands. I am trying to center my life around Jesus and not around my circumstances.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
~ Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

We are selfish people by nature and I will fail at this goal on a daily basis, I know that going in. But God is bigger than my grief and my selfishness. He wants nothing more than to be the only thing I need, the only thing I desire.

And He wants that for you too, friend.

“God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.”
~ John Piper

Heather is a devoted wife and math teacher, but her greatest love? Jesus Christ! She is passionate about international missions, scrumptious dark chocolate, and making people snort water out their noses. She and her husband are on the bumpy & exciting road of foster-to-adopt while still riding that infertility/loss rollercoaster.

Author Website: Reach In, Reach Out, Reach Up

Follow Me

2011-08-01T05:00:00.010-04:00

“I'm not a mom yet either, Amy, but I want to start getting prepared anyway and make some connections,” my sweet friend encouraged me. “I'd love it if you would come with me.”

I couldn't believe I was actually considering doing a mom's Bible study with my friend! She was waiting for her husband to be ready to start a family. Armed with the hope that we would soon become parents by adoption, and with the encouragement of my friend, I went to the Bible study with all the mommies I so longed to resemble.

The author of the Bible study told the tale of how two months after surrendering her desire for children to the Lord, asking that His will be revealed even if His will was that she would not ever be a mother, she conceived her first child and went on to have three daughters. Praise God!

I can just hear you, and I had the same reaction. "Oh, yeah. That's the way it ALWAYS happens. Surrender your desires and immediately receive them. Maybe I haven't really surrendered, then? I thought I had, but I'm still childless/single/depressed/fill in the blank." (Can I get an Amen?) I had to sincerely pray that God would allow me to see her beautiful story through His Godly eyes, and not my childless ones.

Although my flesh sarcastically cried out, "Must be nice," God's spirit calmly said, "Wait." Back to the study I went, week after week, and He delivered. Not in the form of a child during that study, but in the form of His peace, and of connection with many other women whose stories God penned. God does answer prayers in His perfect, faultless will and timing. Sometime His answer is “Trust me.”

In John 21:23, Jesus and Peter are discussing Jesus' plans for Peter's life. So Peter, and I have to say I am kind of like this impulsive guy, compares himself to John and wants to know what John's future will look like! Jesus says, "What is that to you? You must follow me." The comparison game is alluring as we look at what others have that we don't, but we are to follow Jesus and His plan for us, not his plan for Mama Jane.

A woman might experience infertility for a time, then surrender her desire to God, immediately to conceive and go on to have many children. That is her story. Another woman might sincerely surrender her desire to God and go on to experience infertility indefinitely after. That is her story. (Infertility is my difficulty of choice here, but you can fill in your own.) Because I was still waiting to become a mom, that did not allow me to discredit someone else's story or to ask God, "Lord, I don't like MY story. Can't I have hers? Even if I'm good?"

I wish I could say it was always easy, but God's word also says not to lie! It's not always easy, but it's always right. God's smart like that. When I look around at life's circumstances, what appears to be my story in my finite wisdom, I sometimes don't like how it plays out. When I look up and surrender to the Lord's will and provision, his infinite wisdom, I let Him write my story. He is after all the author and perfecter of my faith (Hebrews 12:2).

Amy is a lover of life, music, and yarn. She is passionate about open adoption. Amy tries not to take life too seriously - she once took a picture of herself wearing a tiara in the fertility doc's office - but she is serious about pointing others to the source of all comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Author Website: Blessed by Adoption & Birth

Hope

2011-07-31T05:00:00.010-04:00

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering produces perseverance;
perseverance, character; and character, hope.
And hope does not disappoint us,
because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit,
whom he has given us.
Romans 5:2-5

Some Kind of Miracle

2011-07-29T05:00:00.005-04:00

We were having coffee on the waterfront, the remnants of a tiger brownie and apple torte between us. We cupped hot java as we watched the lights of the pier dance on the water. The sun was setting and the dark water glistened with flecks of gold and crimson.

“Sometimes I feel too selfish,” she said softly, “and then I feel guilty.”

I nodded. I knew this feeling. Having picked my way along this rocky road – the one that took me from pursuing parenthood to finding sweet joy in being a complete, permanent family of two – her words plucked a familiar chord in my memory.

So much of this conversation resonated with me. She was wrestling with familiar, difficult questions. How do you picture a life without children? What does such a life even hold? Is it less? More? Could this really be what God wants for our family?

And somewhere over all the questions hum a new grief: can I let this go? Will this always hurt? Am I giving up? Am I simply too tired to carry this pain anymore?

“I mean, we could adopt. We don’t feel called to adopt, but we could. Not adopting feels selfish,” she continued, picking up her fork and trailing the tines in some leftover hot fudge.

“I know,” I replied, fiddling with my napkin. “God builds families in so many different ways. If it’s His will for your family to be complete as two, how is that selfish? How is living in His will a selfish choice?”

As the words slipped off my tongue, I realized how easy it sounded… how effortless a conclusion it seemed to be. Oh, how those few words betrayed the long nights of weeping and praying, the deep grief of wrapping our hearts and minds around a life without children. How well those words hid the occasional guilt I still felt over living what seemed to be the “easy” way out.

“Do you ever feel guilty?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.

I nodded, returning her gaze. “Yes, sometimes. Not as much as before.”

She bit her lip, looked away. The weight of the next question hung heavy in the cool evening air.

“Does it still hurt? This much? Will it always hurt this much?”

I smiled. I knew tears would come and I would fumble my response. I knew this answer, but words could barely do justice to the reality. These tears sang of joy uncontained, mysterious and heart-piercing, of peace that passes understanding.

“No, it doesn’t always hurt this much. It’s… it’s so hard to describe, really. Maybe impossible to describe, but this is our miracle. This joy, this hope, this peace… this is our miracle. I know it’s not everyone’s miracle, but it’s ours and it’s beautiful.”

She had her own tears then… tears of a heart unwilling to believe that such a life could be a miracle; tears longing for peace and joy and hope; the overflow of a heart that has felt too much sorrow in too short a time.

I knew there was nothing more I could say in that moment. Instead, my heart whispered a silent prayer of thanks… for my beautiful life, for words shared, for some kind of miracle.

Some kind of miracle, indeed…

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.
You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,
that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever!
~ Psalm 30:11-12 (NLT)

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

Share Your Heart

2011-07-27T05:00:00.003-04:00

Have you been considering submitting an article to Held? If so, check out 'Share Your Heart' for submission guidelines! We'd love to hear from you!

Just four weeks

2011-07-25T05:00:00.017-04:00

I stared at the home pregnancy test in disbelief. Was that a second line? It was so faint I could barely see it. But…it was there. A phrase echoed in my mind – “a line is a line is a line.” I was pregnant! We had experienced two losses in the last year, and now I was one week out from my 40th birthday and one month out from family reunions on both sides of our family. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. I called my doctor and arranged for a blood test that day.

The call came that evening. My hcg level was eight.

Excuse me? Eight?

My heart sank. The nurse gently told me that they didn’t consider it a positive test, and that I would probably start bleeding in the next couple of days. If not, I could come back for another blood test in a week. Yes, I could try again right away. Maybe next time don’t test so early.

I clung to my husband and sobbed, but at the same time, my mind whirred. Was I pregnant or not? Why would I have any hcg if I wasn’t? Should I feel grief for my baby’s death, or just disappointment at another failed cycle?

When I voiced my confusion on the Hannah’s Prayer forums, this response was especially encouraging:

I have been in prayer with you and for you today. And for that baby inside of you!! And Kristi, medical jargon be thrown out the window - you have hcg in your system…Honey, you're pregnant. No matter whether your doctor's lab registers it as such or not. God has created life once again through the love you share with your husband. Period.

Yes, this was a baby. Life. I believed it, enough to grieve the death of my child when I started bleeding two days later. But giving myself permission to grieve did not make it easier to share this loss with others. When I told people how far along I was, just four weeks, I saw the confusion in their eyes and the unasked questions. So, wasn’t that just your period? Why did you test so early? Are you sure you were pregnant?

I’ve heard that the number of pregnancy losses seems to have escalated in recent years partly because of early home pregnancy testing that can now tell us that we are pregnant before we even miss a period. If we didn’t test so early, we’d never know…and we’d never grieve.

But not knowing does not mean that a baby did not exist. A “chemical pregnancy” is not a medical condition masquerading as a pregnancy. It just means it’s undetectable except by testing for the chemicals in our bodies. Maybe some see my grief as “unnecessary” in the sense that if I hadn’t tested, I wouldn’t have known. But since I did know, it was necessary, and real, and precious.

We named our baby Jordan Gabriel, and we think of him as a boy. My life is richer for having carried him even for the short time he was with us. He reminded me that not only is a line a line, but a life is a life, and a loss is a loss, whether a yet-to-be transferred embryo in IVF, an embryo in the first trimester, or a full-term baby. Receiving permission from my friends, and giving myself permission, to grieve the loss of this very young child was an important step in healing and in experiencing Jesus’ promise, “Blessed are they that mourn, for they will be comforted.”

Kristi and her husband are Yankees transplanted in South Carolina, where they met in seminary over ten years ago. Their ministry, Naomi's Circle, is an outreach to parents who have lost babies during pregnancy or shortly after birth. In her "free" time, she enjoys reading, handbells, and writing.

Author's Blog: This Side of Heaven

You Are Mine

2011-07-24T05:00:00.005-04:00

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, Jacob,
he who formed you, Israel:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
Isaiah 43:1-3

Take Your Theology To The Doctor's Office

2011-07-22T05:00:00.016-04:00

Two weeks after a head-on collision, my friend Gina’s physical therapist breezed into her hospital room and declared, “The doctor wants you to take a few steps today.” We were both appalled. Gina couldn’t even sit up in a wheelchair without passing out from the pain.

The driver who caused the wreck had died instantly; and doctors had pierced Gina’s skin with four pins to set the compound fracture in her leg.

“Don’t question her doctor’s judgment,” I told myself. “Surely he knows what he’s doing.” I clamped my tongue between my teeth.

The therapist sat her up, though Gina begged to lie back down. When her mangled leg touched the floor, she screamed and collapsed on the bed. I started to black out and groped for the nearest chair.

The therapist looked at me helplessly and whispered, “I’m just doing what the doctor said.”

The next day Gina’s new therapist gave her some advice: “Your doctor or therapist may tell you what to do, but neither of them is ultimately in charge of your treatment. You are. If you know you’re trying your best and they demand more, you don’t have to do it. Control the situation instead of letting it control you. Remember, you’re paying us to serve you.”

Later, as I read 1 Corinthians 6:19–20, the words took on new meaning: “Do you know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit … and that you are not your own? Glorify God in your body.”

Prior to my experience with Gina, I knew God had given humans stewardship over our bodies. But I’d never seen the ramifications of that truth in the doctor’s office. Yet afterward I saw that one way we glorify God in our bodies is to manage what medical people do to us. While we have reason and the ability to speak, we’re responsible for our own care.

Studies show that patients who ask questions and expect answers experience less physical discomfort, have more positive attitudes, and feel more in control. As a result, they suffer from less stress and are better able to deal with their problems.

Clearly, when we do what God calls us to do — oversee what happens to our bodies — we end up healthier. So here are some suggestions for good management:

1. Before agreeing to any test or medicine, have the doctor explain the cost, purpose, average success rate, expected outcome, and side effects.

2. Write questions ahead of time. Brains turn to Jell-O as soon as many patients don a surgical gown.

3. Bring a companion. Two sets of ears are better than one.

4. Expect your physician to be an expert only in his or her areas of expertise. If you want emotional support, talk to a friend, pastor, or therapist.

5. Cultivate relationships with support staff. A skilled nursing staff can manage most questions. Many patients want to speak only to the doctor, causing unnecessary delays.

6. If you still have doubts, seek a second opinion.

Twenty-five years later, Gina’s injury has long since healed. But the lesson I learned at her bedside remains: our bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit. And some day we will give account to our Maker for how we treated His property. God calls us to glorify Him in our bodies, and that means supervising and managing what we allow others to do to us.

PhD candidate Sandra Glahn teaches at Dallas Theological Seminary, where she is editor in chief of Kindred Spirit magazine. She is also the author of seventeen books that include When Empty Arms Become a Heavy Burden (Kregel) and the Infertility Companion (Zondervan). Author Website: Aspire2

More and Less

2011-07-18T05:00:00.002-04:00

I had to pull the car off the road for fear of crashing into a tree or running off the winding road. The tears were falling hard and fast, leaving hot red tracks down my face. I let the sobs come as I put my car in park, allowing the grief to just be for a moment.

Dear Lord, why won’t you take away this desire if you will not fulfill it? It isn’t a bad desire. It isn’t selfish. After all, you fulfill this for most people. Why won’t you let me be a mom?

After a few minutes, I got out of my car and opened the back door so I could reach the box of tissues. Blotting my wet face I prayed,

Please change my desire, Lord. I know you can do that. You can change the desires of my heart (Psalm 37:4). I can’t take this anymore. I’m so alone. None of my friends or family understand, and I don’t hear your voice. Where are you?

I drove the rest of the way home and allowed my long hair to cover my face when I walked in the front door to hide my splotchy red cheeks – I didn’t want to talk about my breakdown to my dear husband at that moment – but I kept begging God for understanding.

I’m terrified when I think of never having children. I can’t allow myself to think of the future in case the picture of childlessness becomes too real. When I do let my mind wander near those thoughts, I start to panic. Surely this isn’t what you are really calling me to, Lord.

Maybe the truth wasn’t that I didn’t hear God’s voice, but that I didn’t particularly like what He was telling me. It seemed too hard a truth to accept.

My dear child, what I am doing in someone else’s life has nothing to do with what I am doing in yours. Remember, just because they can have children easily does not mean their lives are perfect. Everyone has difficulty. Life is not about you. It never has been.

Ouch. I knew God was right, of course. It can be so easy to allow our hurts and despair to overtake us, making us blind to everything else. My pain and grief were real, but I was focusing on them too much and not enough on God. God needed to be greater in my life, and I needed to be less (John 3:30). I needed to shift my focus, broaden my perspective.

Slowly I began to see how God could bring beauty from the darkness I had been in. He reminded me that I am not forgotten. He sees me. He loves me. I learned how to start surrendering my desire for children. Instead of asking God why He seemed to give other women the things I wanted, I began asking what I had that they needed. How could God use me in the lives of other women?

Above all, I learned that God is enough. Enough for me to feel joy again. Enough for me to find contentment in Him. And ultimately, He is more than enough to guide me through my uncertain future.

He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live to please themselves. Instead, they will live to please Christ, who died and was raised for them.
~ 2 Corinthians 5:15 (NLT)

Rachel and her husband live in Maryland, home of the world's finest crab cakes. Her heart for women facing the struggle of infertility has led to an active, encouraging role on Hannah's Prayer Community Forums. When she isn't laughing with her husband, Rachel can be found cooking, blogging, and hanging with girlfriends.

Author website: Portrait Rachel

We Are Clay

2011-07-17T05:00:00.011-04:00

Yet you, LORD, are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand.
Isaiah 64:8

Teaching the Public

2011-07-13T05:00:00.028-04:00

As church let out on that Sunday morning and the lobby began filling with people, I smiled across the room as another couple we knew began maneuvering toward us through the crowd. When they reached us, we exchanged hugs as the wife took my arm and pulled me to the side. “Did John tell you?” she asked, excitement and life and joy spilling out from behind her eyes.

I glanced at my husband and watched as a wave of panic spread onto his face. I don’t even remember the rest of what the woman said to me. I just remember trying to look happy. I remember trying not to cry. I remember that all-too-familiar lump growing in the back of my throat.

My husband apologized on the way to the car for the oversight. He had gotten the announcement through the husband. He had meant to tell me. He had forgotten. I nodded. Being prepared for it would have helped. But it wouldn’t have changed the fact that we were still childless - that five years of infertility treatments had left us no closer to the children we always thought we would have. That even though that couple were newlyweds, they were going to have a child.

And we weren’t.

During the years we spent begging, yearning, praying, crying for a child, there were many moments like the one in that church lobby. Moments where I felt my heart breaking when someone said something that reminded me of the losses we had faced.

“I had so wished we could have babysat each other’s children,” one friend said days before she delivered. “Have you thought about adoption?” another asked as their three children played by our feet. “I had a friend who drank this tea,” another woman told me, tucking a piece of paper littered with a scary sounding concoction into my jacket pocket. “Relaxing,” was the key for us, another friend whispered. “Have you thought about taking a weekend away?”

Their well-intentioned words flowed easy off their tongues as they pierced my heart. “You are so young.” “Just be patient.” “Maybe it isn’t meant to be.” Or the husband who, after having a daughter through their first IUI told me, “I so hope this happens for you because there is nothing better than being a parent.”

Ouch.

I would always manage a smile and a polite nod. Sometimes even a few words of thanks would tumble out. But always, when I got home and climbed under my blankets, the tears would come. I would grieve. I would cry.

But always, I would remind myself that these friends and acquaintances, and yes, sometimes even strangers, were not trying to hurt me. It was important that I reminded myself that their intentions were pure. Sure, there was the occasional person who may not have had my best interest at heart, but for the most part, people are good. They are trying. They don’t know what to say. And so sometimes they say something they shouldn’t.

My way of combating this ignorance was to educate people. I started a blog. I told people our story. I wrote posts explaining what you should and shouldn’t say to a woman dealing with infertility. I helped start a Support Group at our church. I encouraged people walking alongside someone going through infertility to use me as a sounding board. I realized that I couldn’t expect people to say the right thing if they didn’t know what the right thing was to say.

If you are in the midst of infertility, you have no doubt found yourself at the receiving end of hard-to-hear words and missed-their-mark comments. I hope you too will remember that people want to help. It is WE, the infertile, who have to teach them how.

After five years of infertility treatments, Wendi Kitsteiner now finds herself the stay-at-home-mother of two boys who are just 8 months apart through the miracles of adoption and pregnancy. She and her husband are currently stationed in Turkey and are also the founders of Because of Isaac (www.becauseofisaac.org) a non-profit organization designed to help fund adoptions for Christian childless couples.

Author Website: Life In The...

My Wants, His Answers

2011-07-11T05:00:00.022-04:00

The woman at the well sought happiness in the arms of men.
Jesus provides peace that could be found in none other than Himself.

I sought joy in the new life of a baby.
Jesus offers New Life in Himself.

I wanted to know the feeling of carrying another soul inside my body.
He provides the Holy Spirit to indwell me.

I longed to nurse a child.
Paul wrote, "Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good."
1 Peter 2:2-3 (NIV)

I dreamed of watching my baby grow and mature.
But am I ever-growing in Christ?
"Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the
teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant
use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil." Hebrews 5:13-14
(NIV)

I bemoaned the "bread of adversity" I felt unfairly called to taste.
The Lord answers with the cross: "And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it,
and gave it to them, saying, 'This is my body given for you; do this in
remembrance of me." Luke 22:19 (NIV)

I pleaded for a child to enrich my days on earth.
He commands, "But store up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where moth and
rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where
your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:20-21 (NIV)

- Adapted from Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage & Adoption Loss (NavPress)

© 2005, Jennifer Saake, reprinted with permission of the author.

Jennifer Saake is the author of Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage & Adoption Loss and a co-founder of Hannah's Prayer Ministries. She loves writing and balks at word count limitations. A wanna-be gardener, Jenni eagerly awaits each spring, optimistically forgetting her lost battle to weeds of the previous summer. Her quest is to find the perfect natural, sugar-free dark chocolate.

Author Website: Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in Infertility & Loss

Worth More

2011-07-10T05:00:00.011-04:00

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.
And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Matthew 10:29-31

Bending in the Storm

2011-07-08T05:00:00.032-04:00

As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things. ~ Eclesiastes 11:5 (NIV)

We had an incredible windstorm a while back, tornado watch and all. Even our black lab Beasley woke up for it, and we stood at the back door, anxiously watching our pine trees sway and the patio furniture toss around like toys.

It wasn’t until morning that we saw the storm’s effects in our front yard. Our sturdy mailbox and post were laying on the ground, having been torn out of its hole the night before. Amazingly, the delicate flowers on our dogwood tree right next to it were still intact. I pointed out the contrast to my husband and, ever the engineer, he observed that the flowers bent and gave way with the wind, whereas the mailbox post was rigid and, when pushed too hard, simply snapped.

I think about those two examples when I think about the effect of the dual storms of infertility and pregnancy loss on my life. Many times throughout this journey, I’ve been like our mailbox – rigid, refusing to bend to the wind that blew counter to my will and my dreams. I’ve railed against God, angrily accusing Him of being insensitive, unkind, and unloving. I’ve stiffened my back to His sovereignty and declared what an unfair world we live in. And when I did, and the wind died down, I found myself feeling broken and splintered.

At other times, God has given me the grace to bend and give way to the gale-force winds of loss and grief and disappointment. I’ve allowed myself to fully feel those emotions, throwing myself in the arms of my heavenly Father and sobbing in His embrace. I’ve cried about the unfair world we live in, but sensed Him weeping with me for my hurt. I’ve submitted myself to His providential will in my life, somehow learning to trust His love even when His ways were beyond my understanding. And when I have, and the wind died down, I found myself feeling battered, but still rooted to the One who is my life.

I find it interesting that in writing Ecclesiastes, Solomon chose both the wind and conception as parallels to God’s inscrutability. God’s ways are so beyond our understanding, in the same way that we can’t understand the wind, in the same way we can’t fathom exactly how conception happens – or why it happens for some and not others. But there is a difference between understanding our Father’s hand and trusting His loving heart. When the gale-force winds come (and they will!), can we also follow the example of the dogwood blossoms and bow to His sovereign plan, submitting to God’s unseen hand and trusting that His character and love are the same in the storm as they are in the sunshine? If so, we will find that when the wind dies down we are still hanging on, resting in the embrace of our loving Father.

Kristi and her husband are Yankees transplanted in South Carolina, where they met in seminary over ten years ago. Their ministry, Naomi's Circle, is an outreach to parents who have lost babies during pregnancy or shortly after birth. In her "free" time, she enjoys reading, handbells, and writing.

Author's Blog: This Side of Heaven

What You've Already Got

2011-07-04T05:00:00.072-04:00

Four years ago, I became a mom - a few weeks later, we lost our baby to devastating miscarriage. We sought rest in the shadow of the Lord’s wings as we focused on God’s great love for us, regardless of the trials He brought our way (Psalm 36:7).

People consoled us with the cliché, “you can always have another.” My baby wasn’t disposable: she was irreplaceable - I didn’t want another baby, I wanted her. And who was to say that I could have another baby? And how would that make the death of my first baby less bitter? Then in my naïveté I believed the cliché. Surely God would refill my womb, and nine months later He would fill my arms with a squirmy little bundle. And you know what? In His incredible providence (and our huge surprise, retrospectively), He did.

Eventually, I thought I outgrew my naïveté. But the Lord showed me that I was just at the beginning. We had more miscarriages. The cliché from before grew new angles as we were reminded to “be grateful for the child you have.” Why does grieving the death of a child make people assume that I am therefore not thankful for our living child?

After suffering seven miscarriages, I admit we receive fewer less-than-comforting clichés, but they are not eliminated. Frequently, I am told to focus on the living child that God has given me. I smile and nod, sometimes saying thank you, as I understand the intention behind this is generally kind and well-meaning. To an extent, I honestly agree - I never want to dissolve into such grief that I am unable to properly nurture my living child. Yet, reality is: this child’s life doesn’t replace the lives of his siblings. There will be voids in our life, family, home until we reach heaven.

Oddly, I don’t feel the need for reminders to “be thankful for your living child” and “focus on the child God has given you”; I find my thankfulness has grown exponentially for him through our grief, as we have seen the value, beauty, and miracle of life. Our living child has never been more precious to us. So when people “encourage” me thus, I feel discouraged - even downtrodden. Guilt seeps in. If I grieve over my babies’ deaths, I am apparently not a good mom to my living child; if I don’t grieve over my babies’ deaths, in the name of focusing on my living child, I am not a good mom to my babies in heaven. Either way, it heaps guilt upon grief.

Regardless of how many living children a family may have, their sweet presence cannot negate the pain, grief, and loss the family suffers. It would behoove everyone to remember that death is death, no matter how much life is left in its wake. Death is grievous, devastating, permanent. Instead of exhorting bereaved parents to focus on their living child(ren), we could learn to encourage bereaved parents by pointing out how we see their love and care of their living child(ren) growing in the midst of their grief. So often, the Lord simply grows our appreciation of their lives, our tenderness in nurturing them, and our love in living out Christlikeness to them.

I continue seeking the Lord’s grace and strength to balance my motherhood in a godly way - being a devoted mother to all of my children, regardless of where they are. This is just one way God allows us to “…not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:18).

Melissa seeks to grow in grace and wisdom alongside her husband, Steven, while pursuing joyful domesticity by nurturing her home, garden, and family. She finds joy in writing, music, crafts, cooking, ministering to those in grief, and currently enjoys watching the building of their dream home in the country.

He Rescued Me

2011-07-03T05:00:00.000-04:00

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.
Psalm 18:16-19

Use Positive Adoption Language

2011-07-01T05:00:00.054-04:00

Nearly sixteen years ago, we welcomed an eight-month-old, blue-eyed baby girl into our lives. Her adoption is a fact that we all discussed openly and enthusiastically.

So I held my breath when our daughter told me that a classmate had asked her, “Why don’t you go back to your old parents?” When I asked how that made her feel, she blew it off with an exaggerated drawl: “Aw, she’s just thinkin’ outta the wrong side o’ her head!”

I chuckled, grateful for my daughter's perspective. And I was also thankful for the wisdom of other adoptive parents who had helped us learn how to communicate with her about her past. They encouraged us to talk openly and use positive language—vocabulary chosen to assign maximum dignity to the way our family was built.

First, we avoid saying “our daughter is adopted.” Using present tense suggests that her adoption is ongoing. When it is appropriate even to refer to her adoption, we say, “She was adopted,” describing the way in which she joined our family.

When people ask if she is our natural child, we affirm that she is — she's certainly not our unnatural child. As she has described it, “Mommy’s tummy was broken, so I grew in her heart instead.” We refer to her genetic family as her birth parents. She is not our genetic child, but she is naturally ours. And her birth mother and birth father are not her mother and father. We are.

Is our daughter “one of our own”? Certainly. We laugh when she’s funny. We discipline her when she sasses. We drag ourselves out of bed when she’s sick. We are her parents, and we love her as much as any parent could love a child. The institution of marriage demonstrates that one can love as family a person to whom he or she is unrelated genetically. My sister, the biological mother of one and the adoptive mother of another, insists that adoptive ties are as strong as genetic ones.

Today’s birth parents do not surrender, relinquish or “give up a child” to adoption, except in cases of involuntary termination of rights. Instead birth parents “make an adoption plan.” Theirs is an active, not a passive, choice. They recognize they are incapable of giving all their biological child needs for wellbeing, so they proactively choose a better life for that child. When our friends talk about this, we prefer that they emphasize the love part over suggesting our girl was abandoned.

Some prospective parents opt to adopt a child from another country. The preferred label for this is not foreign adoption but international adoption—just as we would say “international students” not “foreign students.”

We do not refer to other’s children who were adopted as their “adopted children.” They are simply their children. As author Patricia Johnston points out, we would never describe little Jimmy as Tom and Meg’s “birth-control-failure child.”

We prefer that people use this positive adoption language. Yet it doesn’t usually upset us when they don’t. We don’t expect them to know. But we do appreciate it when they listen and learn.

Each year in the United States, more than 120,000 families experience adoption, and we are among those blessed families. When I sing “God bless the broken road that led me straight to you,” I glance in the rearview mirror and smile at the girl who made us parents, the girl who grew in my heart. She is ours, but she’s not ours. She is, as are all children, on loan to us from God.

PhD candidate Sandra Glahn teaches at Dallas Theological Seminary, where she is editor in chief of Kindred Spirit magazine. She is also the author of seventeen books that include When Empty Arms Become a Heavy Burden (Kregel) and the Infertility Companion (Zondervan). Author Website: Aspire2

Why I'd Rather Be Awake

2011-06-29T05:00:00.031-04:00

"If you want to make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is wake up." ~J.M. Power

We were made to procreate. God placed in each living being an instinctual desire to recreate and continue the species. Humans being were further given the opportunity to make choices about procreation. We can choose to do so or not to do so. We are not just driven by instincts. We can logically and personally decide if we want to bring forth children or remain child-free.

Except when you can’t. What most take for granted, for some of us it is unattainable. You don’t really understand the power of that choice until you don’t have it. Infertility is cruel and random. You don’t think about it until it invades your life, turns it upside down, and takes over your dreams.

I had the normal dreams of most young girls. I would go to college, get an education, find a job, marry my dream man, have children, live happily ever after. As I was growing up life seemed to go just as planned. College and graduate school, check. Job, check. Man of my dreams, check.

The next logical step for us was to have a baby. And so we began to dream. Oh, how we dreamt. We dreamt of a little girl with my curly hair and my husband’s green eyes. We dreamt of a little boy with my energy and his introspective personality. We dreamt as we planned, timed, checked, and counted days.

We kept dreaming as weeks turned into months and months turned into years. All around me my friends would get pregnant and become moms. And I prayed, and hoped, and mostly dreamt. We continued dreaming while the doctors tested and prodded. We kept planning as they took samples and made diagnoses.

Twice we thought the dream would finally come true and twice we were disappointed by medical science. But we could not stop dreaming of the little girl and the little boy, for we thought if we stopped dreaming we would stop living. Infertility consumes you. It becomes the nightmare that kills the dreams.

And I moved as in a fog. Dreaming of the children I couldn’t have. Dreaming of the mother I could not be. And living only medical nightmares.

One day when all the science we were morally and ethically willing to endure was exhausted, I was faced with two choices: to allow the nightmare to drag me deeper into a dark obsession where I compromised my beliefs of right and wrong in pursuit of this elusive dream; or to shake myself awake and allow the Dream-Giver to reshape my reality and my hopes. So I woke up.

I woke up to the reality that there are many ways to make a family. The little girl I was dreaming about for so long was not in me, but out there. She would have beautiful eyes - brown, not green. She would have curly hair, not like mine, but beautiful anyway. She would not grow in my womb, but I would love her madly nonetheless.

And wide awake we filled out the paperwork, went through the homestudy, and received the phone call. Wide awake we chose her, picked her up, and made her ours. A little while later, wide awake we brought her little brother home the same way. A boy with energy to spare and as laid-back as a peaceful stream. Wide awake we took charge of our dreams, and with God’s amazing help and grace, they came true.

I don’t believe adoption is for everyone. It is not to be entered upon lightly for it can be a painful, bittersweet process. It is not second best and it is not a last resort. For us it was a God-given calling and the reality that made our dreams come true. For some of my dear friends dealing with this infertility monster we “affectionately” call IF, their dreams have and will be made reality with the help of doctors. Others have and will make the choice to redefine their dreams and dream up a new way of living, child-free. But for us, it took waking up from our infertility nightmare to realize our two dreams were out there somewhere waiting for us to find them.

Gaby is a pastor's wife, a momma to two, teacher and recent homeschooler from Ecuador who likes to imagine that she can write. Her family is a little bit famous in their small southern town because they look like a committee of the United Nations everywhere they go, including multiple languages just to confuse the neighbors.

Author Website: Life In A Glass House

Unwritten

2011-06-27T05:00:00.036-04:00

I can remember vividly as a little girl writing out the names of my future children. I’d sit at my desk and on a notepad I’d write my favorite 'J' and 'K' names, thinking about my future family and the joy that would come from writing these very names on Christmas cards and letters.

As I nervously anticipate my upcoming birthday, it’s apparent that God had been writing me a longer and more difficult journey towards motherhood than expected. I thought by now I’d already have a little 'J' or 'K' added to my family.

So many times I have questioned His purpose in all of this. Was I in need of being broken? Was I being punished so that I could recognize my own sin? Is He revealing this to me because He doesn't think I should be a mother?

And the questions continued even after a failed first cycle of IVF, as the hope that had filled my heart was crushed in the instance of a phone call with unfavorable results.

Where is He taking me on this journey? What is He trying to show me?

I believe He is reaching out His hand to me and showing me that He is there. That in the midst of my greatest struggle, He is compassionate and hears every cry and sees every frown, and that He wants me to trust in Him alone.

And I believe He wants me to continue to use this heartbreaking journey to shine His light in sharing with others and being an encouragement to them. He is using it as my testimony, because without faith and hope, it wouldn’t be His purpose that I’m following.

This past Easter, I was struck by the beauty of the song 'Grace Flows Down': Amazing grace… how sweet the sound. Amazing love… now flowing down. From hands and feet… that were nailed to the tree. As grace flows down and covers me.

I believe with every tug at my heart and emotional high and low, that God is taking that pen and guiding my hand in a way that humbles me and brings me to my knees. You see, God has decided to change the instrument and the pace at which I am writing. With His embrace, I can find comfort that He is writing my story. His story is beautiful. And as I continue to wait, I’m excited to see what unfolds. Maybe He just wants to wait until I’ve come to terms with my husband wanting an 'M' name.

Melinda is a marketing professional with a passion for creativity. She loves making cards, baking, dancing and massages. She can never resist dessert and enjoys spending time with loved ones. God is continuing to reveal Himself in her life and she's excited to share what's on her heart, including gratefulness to God for the blessings in her life amidst the struggle of infertility.

Author Website: Mewie Life

Our Comfort Abounds

2011-06-26T05:00:00.002-04:00

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,
who comforts us in all our troubles,
so that we can comfort those in any trouble
with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.
For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ,
so also our comfort abounds through Christ.
2 Corinthians 1:3-5

On The Journey With You

2011-06-24T05:00:00.019-04:00

“Janet, you’ll never have a baby. Your ovaries look like those of a ninety-year-old woman.”

Sitting on the doctor’s exam table, extending my left hand to show him my new engagement ring, I protested in shock, “But I’m engaged!”

“You’ll have to tell your fiance you probably will never have children. If he really loves you, he’ll understand and still want to marry you,” the doctor replied.

This prognosis of my dismal fate of childlessness occurred at my post-op visit following an emergency operation for suspected appendicitis, which actually was a ruptured ovarian cyst. The surgeon on call the night of my surgery was the OB/GYN who now was pronouncing pregnancy a virtual impossibility after seeing my “shriveled up and cyst-covered ovaries that look like those of a ninety year old woman.” I was twenty-one, a college senior, and newly engaged—my world was over. I couldn’t have children — the dream of every little girl who ever played house.

My fiance said his mother was adopted and adoption was a fine solution. I was grateful for his reaction, but secretly held onto the notion that we would have a baby.

In the early years of marriage, it was a relief not worrying about getting pregnant as we both started new careers, but I gazed longingly at the couple next door expecting their first baby. I wondered if my tummy would ever bulge with a new life.

Three years into marriage, like Sarah in the Bible who laughed at the thought of getting pregnant at age ninety, I was laughing at the doctor who said my “ninety-year-old” ovaries would never produce a child. I was pregnant! The Lord’s words to Sarah’s husband, Abraham, echoed in my mind “Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Genesis 18:14). When I gave birth to my daughter, Kimberly, my mother called her a “little miracle.” I resented her making such a big deal about my unusual pregnancy — I longed to be “normal.” As I grew in my faith, I was able to appreciate God’s mercy and grace of blessing me with the miracle of Kim’s life.

As my “miracle baby” Kim was growing up, she often would pat her tummy and announce, “Someday there’s going to be a baby in there.” I’d smile and nod my head in agreement, while my heart was pleading, Oh, Lord, please let my baby have a baby.

When Kim married, they waited three years to start a family thinking Kim would go off birth control pills and quickly get pregnant — right on schedule. But as the months turned into years, and she didn’t ovulate or have a period, the concern mounted. So began their infertility journey.

Like Kim and me, you have probably pleaded, “Dear God, why can’t I have a baby?” as did my daughter, Shannon, and forty-six other mommies and daddies in waiting. We share our stories with you in my new release, Dear God, Why Can’t I Have a Baby? A Companion Guide for Couples on the Infertility Journey. I wrote this book so that we could walk along beside you on your journey with infertility and with God. Our medical issues and resolutions may differ from yours, but you’ll resonate with our hearts.

Janet Thompson is founder of Woman to Woman Mentoring and About His Work Ministries. Sharing life’s experiences and God’s faithfulness is the premise of Janet’s fourteen books and speaking topics. Janet and her husband Dave live in Idaho and are Grammie and Grampa to eleven beautiful grandchildren.
Excerpts from Dear God, Why Can’t I Have a Baby? A Companion Guide for Couples on the Infertility Journey

Finding Definition

2011-06-22T05:00:00.007-04:00

I was standing in the church nursery, someone else’s toddler on my hip.

I stood a moment, scanning the rest of the children in the room, making mental notes about what mothers had said about sippy cups and rice cookies and naps and runny noses. It was then I realized I was the only adult in the room. A moment later I saw, through the window that connected the infant and toddler nurseries, that all the other women – the mothers – had congregated in the infant room, chatting and laughing.

I stared at them a moment, my heart in my throat, fighting back tears. It had been a fight that morning preparing myself for nursery duty, wanting nothing more than to be able to bring my own child. To stand here, a child not mine on my hip, watching the mothers leaving me isolated and alone in a room of children… it was too much.

When I think back to that Sunday morning and the hot tears I shed in the church bathroom, I realize that none of those women were intentionally trying to hurt me. Often, when we are our most vulnerable (an infertile woman caring for the children of others in a very fertile church) we can interpret certain moments in a manner that highlights our grief. As a woman already feeling raw, empty and useless, I interpreted their gathering in a separate as a way of telling me how ‘other’, how disconnected and unworthy of friendship I was as the childless one.

I figured I was flying the ‘freak’ flag high and they could see it clearly. I saw myself as less… why wouldn’t they view me in the same light?
My friend, Tammy, recently shared some very candid thoughts with me:

More profoundly than how I defined myself, it was my perception of how others defined me as a woman and also how I was treated. While my husband was in college, the women in the church we attended viewed me as a "cute little newlywed", and though there were quite a few married women in my age group they didn't attempt to make friendships with me. It was always, "Just wait till you have children." And then you'll know. And then you could be my friend. And then you'll be an adult. Did they finish the sentence? No. But they might as well have.

Her words resonated with me deeply: as though stuck in some perpetual state of pre-adult, newlywed existence, I often felt like no one took me seriously. Infertility can be a lonely, confusing place, and that moment in the church nursery did nothing but reinforce that grief, intentional or not.

But Tammy went on,

When you look at yourself as, "Me, a child of God", that is how God wants us to see ourselves. Unfortunately, spouses pass away, children move out, your husband might step down from the ministry, etc. And when those things happen, if you've identified yourself with that, your sense of identity is removed. But if you identify yourself with Christ, He will never leave you nor forsake you, and He will help you fulfill your duties (wife, mother, pastor's wife, etc.). That session was very healing for me.

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” ~ 1 John 3:1

There is one truth to who we are.

It is not the lies fed to us by the enemy.

It is not the perceived opinions of others.

It is this: “You are Mine.” (Isaiah 43:1)

Through the grief and pain and hot tears in bathroom stalls, there is one truth that does not change. We are His. Our identity is rooted in Him and Him alone.

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

A big thank you to Tammy for her candid and honest expression, and her willingness to be a part of this series.

A Father's Perspective

2011-06-20T05:00:00.002-04:00

I am not the typical man. I have always known I had one goal: to be a daddy. In kindergarten when the teacher asked what everybody wanted to be when they grew up I answered, “A dad.”

Once I had found the right girl I figured all I had to do was be patient and wait for the family portrait I had dreamed of all my life to become a reality. I believed that within a decade or so I would be well on my way to seeing it populated with a beautiful bride and four lovely daughters, even if I was still waiting on some of them to come into the world.

After dating for four years, my wife and I got married. We knew we needed to build a strong marriage before we began to bring children into a family, so we decided to wait five years.

We both started college the fall semester after our first anniversary. We had planned to practice birth control until the second semester of our senior years. If things had gone as we had planned, our first child would have been born at the end of the summer following graduation.

We started down that road but it didn’t end up where I had thought it would. It turned into one of the most devastating times in my life. Becoming a dad was the one thing in my life that I had no control over, but it felt like the greatest failure of my life. In the midst of this, I turned thirty. I was so depressed over not having already become a father I insisted I had nothing to celebrate and refused to even attend a milestone birthday party if one was held for me.

This was a shock to my wife. She had no idea I was even hurting. This wasn’t because I was keeping my feelings from her. I really wanted to share them with her, but she was struggling with her own infertility battle and I knew how deeply she had been hurting. Out of my desire to protect her I couldn’t add to her pain by unloading mine on her. Unless a moment like this one had come along, she never would have known how much I was hurting too.

Sometimes we have dreams that never come to pass and we have to let them go, but this was not one of them. This was a dream that was burned into my DNA. I had always known that I was supposed to be a daddy, but for some reason that dream was being kept from me, and it had become more than I could bear. On my darkest day I cried out to God and begged him to take my life. I didn’t want to live another day on this earth if I was never going to hear a child’s voice call me “Daddy.”

That was a very dark moment and it still brings up deep emotions when I recall it but, ironically, at that very same moment of desperation, God had already been moving on my behalf to bring my oldest son into my family. It was only fifteen minutes later that the telephone rang and the voice on the other end said that a baby boy had been born that morning and he could be ours if we wanted him.

Since then we have experienced one miscarriage and two successful pregnancies, through which God has blessed us with a daughter and another son. I wish I could say that this has made everything complete, but my heart still has a longing that has not yet been filled.

I have always envisioned my family portrait as being populated with more children and that hasn’t changed. I am not yet satisfied. Is that wrong? I am happy with my three but my heart looks at the pictures on my wall and misses the one lost to miscarriage and wonders if there is room for more that we have yet to meet.

We are all at different places on our own journeys, and even though sometimes we may feel like “If I only had just one, I could be satisfied”, the truth is unless our dream has always been for just one, we will never truly be satisfied with one.

The writer of Proverbs wrote, “Happy is the man whose quiver is full.” For many years I hated that verse. I felt stung by it because my quiver had a large vacancy in it. I had fashioned a quiver perfectly sized to hold four children and I had to carry it around empty. Though it was metaphorical and no one really saw it, it hung on my heart like a badge of shame. It became a burden much to heavy to bear.

Even as children began to enter my family and one by one arrows began to fill up my quiver, I still saw the empty space and that vacancy weighed far more than the arrows did.

God has taught me through this experience that all of us have unfulfilled dreams. It doesn’t matter how much of those dreams we may have experienced the completion of, it is the portions that remain incomplete that weigh on us. This does not make us ungrateful children of God. It just makes us honest. What is important is to not to become so consumed by the unfulfilled desire that you rob yourself of the ability to experience the happiness God wants you to live in right now.

John is married to Julie, the founder of Ladies in Waiting an online ministry to women dealing with infertility that merged with Hannah’s Prayer in 2002. John has recently returned to working full-time after being a stay-at-home dad for nearly fourteen years. John is a champion for father-daughter relationships, which you can read about on his blog.

Author Website: Every Daddy's Princess

A Father's Void & The Father's Peace

2011-06-19T05:00:00.000-04:00

“Dave, come quickly, by the time you arrive at the hospital, your wife will be in emergency surgery!”

What? Not exactly the opener to a phone conversation with our doctor and family friend, Dr. Chris, that I would ever have expected. He went on to explain briefly about my wife, Teresa’s medical emergency.

My wife and I had barely been married two years by this time, and while we had been hoping to build a family, we had already experienced the heartache of three miscarriages in their first trimesters. The second and the third losses were just as traumatic to our hearts and dreams as the first loss.

Now, my wife was pregnant a fourth time and had seeming been progressing well. She began to experience some pain in her right side, so made an appointment to see our doctor just to make sure everything else was fine with her health.

Our doctor ordered an ultra-sound to gain a perspective on the pregnancy and on her internal organs from where the pain seemed to emanate. The ultra-sound technician did a fairly thorough exam of her abdomen and womb, and though the pregnancy tests had been positive some time earlier and again on that same day, he could not locate a pregnancy with the ultra-sound scans.

Prior to releasing Teresa from the ultra-sound lab, the technician called our doctor with his results. Nothing was found, wrong or otherwise. The scans were all normal, except no pregnancy was found.

Anticipating there was a problem, our doctor instructed the technician to keep looking, to keep scanning, and to not let her leave the lab until the pregnancy was located. He was certain she was pregnant, and he wasn’t going to release her until he could understand her symptoms and condition, pregnant or otherwise.

Forty minutes more of ultra-sound scanning and probing and the technician said, “There it is!” He called the doctor with the results, both good and bad news.

The good news was that the doctor had been correct in his insistence for the ultra-sound scan to continue until something was found. The bad news was that it was a tubal pregnancy, very advanced, and on the verge of rupturing. A woman in that condition will almost always die of internal bleeding if the tubal pregnancy ruptures.

Upon reviewing the results, the doctor immediately ordered emergency surgery, and he picked up the phone and called me at my place of work. He informed me that he and another specialist were preparing for her surgery, and for me to hurry the approximate 30 miles from my location to the hospital in which she was already located.

My mind raced as I tried not to race my car to the hospital. To this day I hardly remember the drive, other than trying not to speed and be stopped for a ticket, thus making my arrival even later.

I arrived at the hospital and a nurse was waiting for me at the front door to guide me through the small maze of hallways to where my wife was being prepped for surgery. I arrived and had about ten minutes with her to talk, and pray, before they wheeled her out of the room.

Several hours of waiting followed. Finally Dr. Chris came into the waiting room where I was, and he said that Teresa’s surgery went very well. He said the timing of opening her abdomen was providential because just as they reached the tubal pregnancy, it began to rupture. They were able to tie off the bleeding with no time to spare.

My wife and I have now been married almost 24 years, and we have four children in heaven awaiting our arrival. It has been difficult not being able to bear children. Though we have been involved in foster care, and have come very close to adopting a young girl at the request of the courts, we still carry a void in our lives.

Though the void of being childless remains, there is a Grace of God and a Peace of our Heavenly Father that exceeds the emptiness of that void. Do we still feel the void? Oh, yes, we do. However, the Grace and Peace of our Father provides something that is greater than that void.

As for me personally, I thank the Lord so, so much, and so, so often that He spared my wife, Teresa, on that fateful day when our doctor and family friend called and said, “Dave, come quickly…”

David is a Pastor, Executive Coach, and Leadership Consultant. He is on sabbatical from full-time work due to health reasons, but still ministers as his health permits. Writing is also a passion that has been developing, and opportunities to write articles, courses, workbooks, and text books are keeping him wondering how he will ever get them done... except by the Grace of God! His life's passion is to grow in prayer, communion with his Heavenly Father. David loves his God, his wife, and his life!

Author Website: Heart & Path Journal

Borrowed Happiness

2011-06-17T05:00:00.010-04:00

Thirty-nine, single, with a fast-ticking biological clock; I wasn’t prepared for a threat to my fertility. For years I had borrowed the happiness of my friends who were moms, rejoicing in their pregnancy and child rearing tales while imagining my own. Fit and a born cheerleader, I was the one people looked to for diet and exercise advice coupled with encouragement. But my confidence evaporated when my doctor said, “You have multiple uterine fibroids and should consider a hysterectomy”. Life as I’d known it was about to change.

As tears flooded my eyes thoughts careened around my dazed mind. Barren, cursed, infertile, were these dreaded words my new title? This isn’t supposed to happen to me. I’d make a great wife and mom! Where is God? Is He mad at me? Adoption never entered my mind. Frightened and alone I didn’t care that the odds were against me. Deciding to fight the conventional wisdom that I should sanction this drastic surgical measure, I chose a natural and holistic approach. Miracles happen all the time; maybe I’ll be healed if I direct enough positive energy to the right channels of my body. It’s my body; I’m in control!

Over the next four years I embarked on a self-directed path of physical restoration. I had no idea this road of sorrow and pain was God’s route for my soul’s salvation. Constantly I questioned my fate. How could I ever be happy if I’m single and childless? Don’t I deserve to have my heart’s desire? Haven’t I done more good than evil in my life? Why would God torture me if He loves me? My performance oriented people pleaser brain believed God would reward me if I “behaved well”; I had no peace. Convinced the greatest tragedy I could suffer was a solo existence, I made marriage and motherhood an idol to be worshiped and praised above all else.

Life was a treadmill of activities and rituals designed to earn God’s favor in return for answered prayers. With no husband in sight, my resolve waned as my stomach bulged under the weight of the fast-growing fibroids. Exhausted from emotionally holding up myself I waved my flag of surrender and stepped down from my throne. Collapsing into the arms of Jesus my healing would come, but not in a way that fit my paradigms. It wasn’t what I expected, but it was exactly what I needed. “Ah, Sovereign Lord, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and out stretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you” (Jeremiah 32:17).

Your fellow sojourner,
Mary

This post contains excerpts from Mary Singer Wick’s Amazon #1 bestselling book, My Heart’s Desire: A Journey Toward Finding Extravagant Love.

Nicknamed “Miss Enthusiasm” by her audience, Mary Singer Wick is a speaker and writer committed to sharing Christ’s love. She enjoys gardening, hiking, and creating a soothing oasis in her home. Jon and Mary live in Raleigh, North Carolina. She is a stepmother to Jon’s three daughters.

Author Website: Extravagant Life

’Tis So Sweet To Trust In Jesus

2011-06-13T05:00:00.044-04:00

There was a point in my life that I would sing this hymn ,and boom it with all my heart (or boom it quietly with all my heart as not to ruin it for those around me) Trust Jesus? Of course I trusted Jesus. Who wouldn’t?

And all my life, I thought I did trust in the Lord. The Lord was great! He had given me two loving parents, a loving spouse, a roof over my head, a Christian school to attend, athletic abilities that paid for college, fantastic friends, great churches, good health, every job I had applied for. Nothing bad had ever really happened to me.

Of course I trusted Him.

The fact is, trust is easy when your life is going as planned. But when life isn’t going the way you drew it up? How do you trust him then? Trust Him? Well, sort of. I mean, I want to trust Him, but why is He choosing to do things this way? Why doesn't He do them my way? Why did He allow that to happen? He defeated sin.

Infertility shook my trust to the core.

In my case, it was looking around me and questioning all the people God had given a child to instead of giving one to me. Recently it was a little Brazilian baby thrown in the river in a plastic bag. (She survived and people were soon lining up to adopt her.) Mothers having abortions. Teenage mothers. Abusive parents. "Wait!" I screamed at the TV or at the Lord. "Here I am! Give me those babies! Bless me with a pregnancy! I want those children!" Those were moments when I looked to the Lord and said, "Lord, I'm not sure I do trust You. Do you know what you are doing?"

Two and a half years into my infertility journey, a new woman joined us one evening for our quarterly support group meeting. As we listened to her voice her trust issues out loud, another woman with twins from embryo adoption spoke up. "I know what God was thinking. If I wouldn't have traveled the road I traveled, I wouldn't have these two boys -- and these are my boys."

As I was driving home that night, I had the moment I had wanted since this battle had begun. I somehow, finally, trusted the Lord. Or at least understood what that meant. I have been trying so hard -- every step of this journey, but that night I could honestly sing this song and mean it. I realized that while the Lord didn't cause this pain, he was using it every day.

Romans 8:28-31 says: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to HIS purpose." (NIV) Wait a minute! If not for infertility, I wouldn't have met this woman that night. If my friend with the twins hadn't hadn’t struggled to conceive, she wouldn't have her twins. If not for infertility, what would my faith be?

I don't think, prior to infertility, I would be able to understand when a friend told me they were questioning their faith or grieving a disappointment -- whatever it may be. But now, because of infertility, I understand.

Wendi, trust Me. I've got your best interest in mind. I didn't cause this, but I will use this in your life. When you look back, you will understand, either on earth or in heaven, why things happened the way they did. Trust Me.

Two and a half more years would pass. Five years and more infertility treatments than one person should ever attempt. I am not saying that during that time I did not waver again in my faith or in my trust. I did. Often. But I was able to remember that no matter how my story played out, the Lord had my soul -- my future -- in the palm of my hand. And I could trust that.

My story? Well it is still being written. Three days before Mother's day in 2008 -- one month before our tenth wedding anniversary -- we became parents through the miracle of adoption after we received an out-of-the-blue phone call from the flower girl from our wedding. She was pregnant, seventeen, and wanted us to be her child's parents. When Isaac John was six weeks old, the Lord wrote another chapter in our story. Today, Isaac John is 3. Our biological son, Elijah Luke, is 2. They are eight months apart.

And they'll both be big brothers in July.

After five years of infertility treatments, Wendi Kitsteiner now finds herself the stay-at-home-mother of two boys who are just 8 months apart through the miracles of adoption and pregnancy. She and her husband are currently stationed in Turkey and are also the founders of Because of Isaac (www.becauseofisaac.org) a non-profit organization designed to help fund adoptions for Christian childless couples.

Author Website: Life In The...

Held Together

2011-06-12T05:00:00.017-04:00

Instead, speaking the truth in love,
we will grow to become in every respect
the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.
From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament,
grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.

Ephesians 4:15

Wanted

2011-06-10T05:00:00.024-04:00

Wanted: Physician.

Must work seven days a week while enjoying a strong marriage and family life. Will attend conferences for professional development, but is always in the office; never takes vacations but cultivates many outside interests and international perspectives so as to be well-rounded and interesting. Must be old enough to have decades of medical experience, yet young enough to be in touch with next year’s technology.

Must have an outstanding staff, which is voluntarily underpaid, making it possible to offer the most up-to-date service at minimal cost. Will schedule appointments for unlimited amounts of time with each patient to whom he or she devotes undivided attention.

Must never require anyone to wait. Will return phone calls within five minutes while adhering to a full surgical schedule to keep skills sharp. Must work long hours, yet intelligently discuss the plot of last night’s sitcoms to put patients at ease.

Must have the humility to say, “I don’t know,” or “I need help,” but will never need to say either. Will instantly be able to assess whether a patient needs a strong dose of hope or caution. Must never say the wrong thing. Is a genius, yet sociable, sensitive, and witty. Must have a reputation for demonstrating a wonderful bedside manner.

Is always in a good mood, and can handle with ease and pleasure any number of patients lacking any or all of these qualities.

From When Empty Arms Become a Heavy Burden by Sandra Glahn and William Cutrer.

PhD candidate Sandra Glahn teaches at Dallas Theological Seminary, where she is editor in chief of Kindred Spirit magazine. She is also the author of seventeen books that include When Empty Arms Become a Heavy Burden (Kregel) and The Infertility Companion (Zondervan).

Author Website: Aspire2

When It's Not Okay

2011-06-08T05:00:00.005-04:00

She and I were in a kitchen, preparing food, arranging trays. The next room bustled with energy and excitement and conversation from friends and children and husbands. Shoulder to shoulder at the counter, I (the aching, childless one) said to my friend, ‘They came over to announce they were pregnant last night.’

For a moment the house seemed silent. We were alone in the quiet of a moment, our long friendship made solid while walking this shared road of infertility. Her heart (though her arms are full) well remembered this ache; well remembered the grief of watching others move ahead along the road to motherhood while feeling isolated, left behind.

I tried to muster up other words, shrugged helplessly. My desperate attempts to express the twin ache of thankfulness and loneliness fell short. I fumbled and dropped ill-fitting words into the air, onto the counter and finally, over the gooey mess, I managed: ‘It’s okay. I’m okay.’

And my friend, cupcake icing on fingers, wrapped her arm around my shoulder and whispered to my aching heart: ‘No. It doesn’t have to be okay.’

It’s not okay.
It doesn’t have to be okay.
It can hurt right now, because it’s hard. And sometimes the best thing we can do is avoid pretending that the pain is something other than pain.

Because really, isn’t that the heart’s cry some days?

O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?
How long will you look the other way?
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul,
with sorrow in my heart every day? ~ Psalm 13:1&2

David knew. He knew that sometimes it’s just not okay… that sometimes it just plain hurts. And not just the ‘tight pinch’ kind of hurt but the heart-wrenching, breath-snatching, kick-in-the-gut pain that doubles you over and leaves you sobbing.

I know that pain.
Maybe you know that pain, too.

Today, if pain, sorrow, or grief is making your throat ache with unspent tears, will you let me whisper to your heart that it doesn’t have to be okay?

No more pretending. No more stubborn chin, brave face.
Let shoulders shake, tears fall.
Hunker down into grief, knowing that grace could never leave you there.
And cry out.

God knows. The Word knows the pain of a life lived in a beat up, busted world.

The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing. – Zephaniah 3:17

There, in the dark shade of grief, He’s waiting to quiet you with his love, to rejoice over you. There, in the dark, will be the only Light that matters. Let Him sing your heart back to Him

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

"You Are So Young!"

2011-06-06T05:00:00.038-04:00

June marks the advent of two big events in my life. The first is my birthday, and 12 days later is my wedding anniversary.

My husband and I were married right after I turned 23. We hardly ever prevented the possibility of becoming pregnant as we felt that God would give us children in His time. However, if you would have told me back then that now, 7 years later, we would still not have any living children, I would not have believed you. Societal expectations of a small town girl dictate that if you are childless in your 20s, that is unfortunate, but your story starts to become sad when you reach the next decade and beyond.

Early on in our infertility, I consoled myself with the fact that I was "young." If I ever talked with anyone about our inability to conceive I was also told, "You are so young." I was regaled with stories of women in their 30's and 40's who struggled with pregnancy. The lesson I took away from these conversations was, "Don't complain, Kim. There are sadder stories than yours."

Part of me consoled myself with these facts and stories. I was young. My husband and I decided to move on with some other things in our lives. I went back to school; my husband indulged in some of his many loves in life (coffee roasting, photography) while continuing to provide for us. The years continued to pass on and my sadness, my doubt of our infertility, would creep in at unexpected times. I remember being at a Mother's Day banquet with my mother and grandmother a few months into our infertility and completely breaking down. Our third anniversary dinner was completely ruined by my sobbing at the table throughout our dinner (although, the waitress did give me a free cookie at the end of the meal). What was happening to me?

I was young, but I was facing (if even from an emotional distance) a reality that I may never have children. It wasn't socially acceptable for me to doubt this yet. I subscribed to this philosophy just as much as those who would offer the (un)helpful "you're young" comments.

As I'm entering into my next decade this June, I have found that our story has flipped. After we experienced a miscarriage in the spring of 2010, I became very vocal about our struggles. Now people will talk to me about relatives, friends that they know that struggle with infertility, and they often preface these stories with, "Their story isn't as hard as yours" or, "They've only been trying for 2 years." It's at this point that I'm able to say with confidence that infertility is hard at any point in the journey. I have walked this road for over 6 years now and the experience is unique to each person who encounters it. My own struggles were much more difficult at the beginning because it wasn't “okay” for me to experience doubt and frustration.

God's graciousness truly started to abound in my life in regard to our infertility when I started talking about it, when I started giving myself permission to grieve even if I was “young.” Once I was able to grieve, I was able to see more fully the existing beauty in my life.

Infertility and child loss are difficult at any point. It would greatly benefit us all if we were given the permission, if we would give ourselves permission to let it be hard when it needs to be hard, regardless of our age or place in life.

When Kim is not buried under her textbooks, she loves to spend time with new recipes or out in the rare Chicagoland sun. Her efforts at growing a successful herb garden this season have only just begun, but she is remaining hopeful that improvements will be made this year for both her and her neighbors' sake. She also greatly values time with her husband, family, and friends.

Author Website: Finding Sunshine

In Every Situation

2011-06-05T05:00:00.010-04:00

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6&7

Living with Infertility

2011-06-03T05:00:00.027-04:00

I never thought it would happen to me. Even when I was a little girl and boys had cooties, I knew that someday I’d grow up, get married, and have children. After all, didn’t everyone? As I entered adulthood, everything seemed to be going along fine. I met a wonderful man, got married, and on our honeymoon we had fun discussing what we might name our future children and how we’d bring them up the best we could to know and love God.

But the years passed, and no children came. No morning sickness, no rounding belly, no baby showers filled with cute little booties and boxes of diapers. Soon, hope turned to fear and trips to the mall changed to travels to the doctor’s office. Tests and more tests, fertility drugs and ovulation sticks became a part of my everyday life.

Intimacy became a means to conceive and date nights with my husband were only another time to rehash the results of the latest treatment. I turned down opportunities for vacations with my husband, fun classes, ministries, and mission trips because maybe I would be pregnant, maybe that month would be the magic month when we’d finally find success.

That was no way to live. Soon, I discovered that if I let it, the monster of infertility would consume my life little by little, day by day, month by month, until all my joy was devoured. But it didn’t have to be that way. God didn’t mean me to live that way. Instead, I had to stop living for the “maybes” of tomorrow and live life to the fullest in all my “todays.” I had to start saying “yes” to the opportunities that came my way.

For my husband and me, and for the couples we now help through the journey of infertility, part of taming that monster meant finding interests that we could enjoy together and pursuing them. One couple took a painting class together. My husband and I got horses and learned to ride Australian style. Others signed up for mission trips. Still others took on ministries in the community. What we all found was that for life to have meaning and purpose, we had to choose to ignore the “what ifs” and instead focus on making the right decisions in the now. We had to value times spent together, make intimacy about each other and not about having a baby, and look for ways to enrich our lives beyond the doctor’s door.

So, for myself and for the other one in six couples who have difficulty conceiving, we must remember that life is more than babies, meaning more than conceiving. And God has a rich and wondrous vision for us all whether or not that life includes our much-hoped-for children.

Marlo Schalesky is the author of Empty Womb, Aching Heart, (nonfiction, infertility) as well as novels such as Shades of Morning (just named a RITA finalist!), If Tomorrow Never Comes (about infertility), and the Christy Award winning Beyond the Night. Despite 20 years of infertility and 6 miscarriages, she’s now the mother of 6. Find her at http://www.vividgod.com/ or www.facebook.com/MarloSchalesky.

The Broken Road

2011-06-01T05:00:00.018-04:00

Upon arriving home from a “Waiting Families” adoption support group, the blinking light on the answering machine seemed like just another new message. We hurried to get changed and out the door for dinner with some friends, and I pushed play on the run. And then I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Hi, this is Kate from Buckner Adoption and Maternity Services. We have an expectant mom who read your profile and is interested in talking with you and one other couple.”

It was The Call.

The next day, Sunday, we spoke on the phone with Cynthia, a young mom-to-be considering making an adoption plan for her unborn son. We had a great conversation and I fell a little bit in love with this young college student. We hung up the phone feeling giddy and yet strangely calm. Would we be chosen? Was this our baby?

The next night on the way home from Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) the Rascal Flatts song “Bless the Broken Road” came on the radio. Can you hear it? “Every long lost dream led me to where you are…” It was one of those God moments that a smile and a tear instantly sprang to my face and eyes as I wondered, “Has the broken road led us to our baby, finally?”

Just as suddenly as the tears struck, a still, small voice spoke to my heart. “No child, the broken road led you straight to Me.”

Say, what?

I took an extra trip around the block waiting for the song to end. I felt a peace in my heart that surpassed all understanding, just like God’s word says His peace will do (Philippians 4:7). I was ready to hear the big news from my husband. When I saw his face, I knew that Cynthia had chosen the other family.

Although I did not instantly shrug and say, “Oh well, better luck next time,” my disappointment miraculously did not last long. I knew that Cynthia’s baby was not meant to be ours – that God had another baby slated to join our family.

God does bless the broken road. Sometimes he blesses it with a baby by adoption, as He did for us less than a month after our conversation with Cynthia. Sometimes he blesses it by a surprise pregnancy or an assisted reproductive technology (ART) procedure. And sometimes His most treasured blessing is to lead you straight into His loving arms.

Will you turn to Him? God promises not to give us a life without troubles, but to deliver us out of them. “Many are the affliction of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all” (Psalm 34:19). Could your broken road be for the purpose of drawing you back or closer to Jehovah-Jireh, the Lord who provides?

Amy is a lover of life, music, and yarn. She is passionate about open adoption. Amy tries not to take life too seriously - she once took a picture of herself wearing a tiara in the fertility doc's office - but she is serious about pointing others to the source of all comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Author Website: Blessed by Adoption & Birth

The Question That Breaks My Heart

2011-05-30T05:00:00.012-04:00

I think we all have at least one question that hurts to answer. For a single person it might be, “Are you married?” or “Are you dating anyone?” For someone unemployed the question may be, “Where do you work?”

For an infertile person the question is…

”Do you have children?”

Gulp. Don’t burst into tears, Rachel.

“No.”

There is a pause from the other person, as she wonders how to respond. She will stop, uncertain where to take the conversation next. I used to try and fill that awkward silence and move the conversation forward, but now I just let it be. This is part of my life and I am not ashamed of it.

I don’t really blame people for asking, but every time I answer a small piece of my already broken heart shatters further. As I mutter my reply, I steel myself for the the follow-up statements and questions.

Most people don’t understand how that question and answer can break my heart. They don’t know all the emotional baggage behind my tortured, “No.” This baggage is born of years of longing, waiting, pleading, and being denied. There is a ferocity to my pain that most find disconcerting and mistake for bitterness.

As I respond, I can’t help but think of our lost dreams and the way I envisioned our life. This is not it.

People don’t see the tears I let fall when I’m alone. Or notice the sorrow etched on my face as I watch my husband play with little ones. Or see me cringe when they ask why we don’t have children.

No, people don’t know how much courage it takes for me to speak that seemingly simple answer. How can they? They haven’t walked in my shoes. They haven’t spent years researching, talking, praying, weeping, and waiting.

We all have emotional baggage. This is part of mine.

And I can be thankful for it.

Through this baggage I have learned so much. I have learned how to better empathize with other hurting people. I have learned that we all have some kind of deep, painful emotional baggage. I have learned that we all have grief so personal and difficult that it’s hard to share openly with others.

I have come to realize that God wants me to use my experiences to serve, encourage, and love others. He has a purpose for my life and he is equipping me to fulfill it. He has brought beauty and healing to my weak, grief-filled broken places.

It’s amazing, really.
I can honestly say that I am thankful for my infertility.

So if you are suffering in a manner that pleases God, keep on doing what is right, and trust your lives to the God who created you, for he will never fail you.~ 1 Peter 4:19 (NLT)

So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.~ 1 Corinthians 15:58 (NLT)

Rachel and her husband live in Maryland, home of the world's finest crab cakes. Her heart for women facing the struggle of infertility has led to an active, encouraging role on Hannah's Prayer Community Forums. When she isn't laughing with her husband, Rachel can be found cooking, blogging, and hanging with girlfriends.

Author website: Portrait Rachel

Faithful

2011-05-29T05:00:00.015-04:00

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another...
Hebrews 10:23-25

Clean Heart, Dirty Diapers

2011-05-27T05:00:00.003-04:00

As #12 of 13 kids, the last thing I worried about was infertility. I mean, come on—I was an aunt 45 times, so obviously fertility wasn’t an issue, right?My husband and I waited till our honeymoon, and the Bible says “He honors those who honor Him,” does it not? And let’s not forget I’m an Inspy author whose tagline is “Passion with a Purpose,” so “passion” sure doesn’t hurt either. All in all, a slam-dunk, right?

Well, a slam, anyway. Within a year there were progesterone/Clomid treatments, monthly ultrasounds, temperature charts, bicycles in the air, husband in boxers and mumbles of Psalm 113:9 in my sleep. Yet, nothing —nada, zero, zilch. Oh, wait —something did happen. Suddenly I couldn’t walk into a McDonalds or church without weeping, heart twisting at the sight of babies, kids or moms-to-be. Trust me, it got real ugly —anger at God, anger at pregos and anger at myself for being angry. I felt awful, but not from morning sickness —it was jealousy, anger, bitterness and despair that had me ready to throw up.

So I counseled with a pastor’s wife known for infertility ministry. Apparently many women she counseled/laid hands on became pregnant soon after, so I thought—why not? Since I’m a big believer in prayer, healing and last resorts, I gave it a shot. November came and went, December did too, and then January took me down for the count. I still remember sobbing in church, on my knees with a hard, bitter feeling where a baby should have been. “Why won’t you give me a baby, God?” I cried, anger spilling out along with my tears.

Never will I forget the words that drifted in my brain that day, drowning out my sobs, crying babies, the band and the choir:

Are you going to throw away this year like you did with the last?
With bitterness, jealousy and doubt?
Or are you going to lay it and the baby down
and live in peace, hope and faith?

Ouch. But God got my attention, and I started sobbing again, only this time it was with a repentant and obedient heart. I told God I was sorry and that I would trust Him with the desire of my heart —children— if it meant biological, adopted or foster. I started praising Him in the face of my infertility because I knew I had the best insurance policy around in Romans 8:28:

And we know that all things (even infertility) work for good for those who love God (love=obedience, John 14:15) and are called according to His purpose (to glorify Him, Isaiah 43:7).

Every time I saw a mother or mother-to-be after that, I’d rebuke jealousy in Jesus' name and pray, asking God to bless her. Three weeks later my brother waltzed up at a family wedding and said, “Guess what —three weeks of trying and we’re pregnant.” Not hello, how are you, or kiss my feet.

Jealousy sprang up like the fountain in the foyer, and I dragged my sister to the bathroom. “Pray with me,” I begged, and we did. That God would bless my sister-in-law with a safe and healthy pregnancy and that God would help me to bless her, some way, some how. That very night I asked her if I could give her a baby shower. She said YES! And you know what? So did God —ten months later when my baby was born two months after hers! Go ahead, call it coincidence, but I gotta tell ya right now —this is one mommy who will never buy it!

Winner of ACFW’s 2009 Debut Author of the Year and 14 RWA awards, Julie Lessman is the author of A Passion Most Pure, A Passion Redeemed, A Passion Denied, and A Hope Undaunted, ranked #5 on Booklist’s Top 10 Inspirational Fiction for 2010. She and her husband have two children.

Author Website: Julie Lessman

Lies And Truth

2011-05-25T05:00:00.032-04:00

I was standing at the counter chopping vegetables for dinner.

After a long day of meetings I had gladly kicked off my heels, swapped out my dress clothes for some comfy casuals and rummaged through the fridge in search of dinner. My barefoot toes wiggled against the linoleum in comfortable freedom as I brought the thin blade through the bright yellow flesh of the pepper.

I flicked white seeds with my knife and, watching them skip across the cutting board, I realized that in the simplicity of preparing a meal for my small family (just my husband and me), I felt some semblance of femininity creep into my bones and make my flesh warm. Barefoot in the kitchen, yes. Pregnant? Never.

Standing here at the kitchen counter it was as though some small part of me clicked into place. As someone who assumed that my life would be lived in a home full of children, this working outside of the home was anomalous. Coming home to make dinner, however, was a small thing that helped restore my sense of womanhood.

And yet, even there, as my tears sprang to my eyes from the harsh sting of the onion I was slicing, I knew I had to admit I was lost. Floundering. Even slicing peppers and onions, I knew what kind of woman I was: less than. A mere fraction of what a woman should be.

I had grown up in the church: I knew what role women were supposed to assume. I knew that women were supposed to be bouncing babies on knees and wiping jam-smeared faces and snotty noses. The life I lived in the boardroom and on the production floor was second best.

Later that night I posed a question to some friends: if infertility changed how you feel as a woman, what one word would you use to describe that feeling?

Some of their answers:

Less. Inadequate. Broken. Lonely. Lost.

It was a whirlwind of mixed emotions as I read through their responses, realizing that while infertility impacts what roles we fill, it also etches lasting meaning into how we (and others) view ourselves as women.

And based on the words above, infertility is a broad avenue for the enemy to feed our grieving, wounded hearts lies that sound like truth. As we sit in a church full of mothers, it is so easy to believe the whispered lies that we are less, incomplete, or inadequate.

Lies that seem to have evidence of truth.
Lies that creep into our lives, our marriages, and into our relationships with God.
Lies that sit on our shoulders and hiss that we are only second-rate citizens.

Lies that, the longer we ride this rollercoaster, aim to override Truth:

You are broken, shattered, useless.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)

You are excluded, lost, excommunicated.
I am a child of God. (1 John 3:1-2, Isaiah 43:1)

You are less.
I am His masterpiece. (Ephesians 2:10)

Walking this road has taught me (the hard way, and through many tears) that we as women, as God’s girls, are so much more than the roles we fill. No matter where life takes us, no matter what path is chosen for us, one thing never changes: we are always His.

We’ll be using this series to explore how to root our identity as women in Christ, not in a role we may or may not fill. I hope you’ll join us.

_________________________________
Are lies of inadequacy or brokenness raining hard and heavy on you today? Will you let us pray for you today?

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

Many thanks to my sweet friends at Hannah's Prayer Ministries for their candid responses to my question!

Hope In The Midst Of Infertility

2011-05-23T05:00:00.003-04:00

Recently, Focus on the Family broadcast a program titled Hope in Midst of Infertility, featuring Marlo Schalesky and another young woman, named Sarah. If you haven't already heard it, I really encourage you to set aside on hour in your day and give this sensitive, moving broadcast a listen.

Hope in the Midst of Infertility - Part One
Hope in the Midst of Infertility - Part Two

We are so grateful to Focus on the Family for their sensitive approach to infertility and loss.

Praying this radio program will be a blessing and encouragement to you today!

Hands

2011-05-22T05:00:00.012-04:00

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;

your walls are ever before me.

Isaiah 49:16

Queen for a Day

2011-05-18T05:00:00.022-04:00

He will yet fill your mouth with laughing,
And your lips with rejoicing. ~ Job 8:21

Infertility is not such a hoot. I blame it on Eve. Because she succumbed to the serpent’s lies, the Lord told her, “I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception” (Genesis 3:16a KJV). I believe that can mean infertility (thanks, Eve). However, God’s word also says, “Where sin abounded, grace abounded much more” (Romans 5:20). One of the ways God shows His grace to me is by allowing me to see the humor in some of life’s impossible situations.

My husband and I did nine IUIs (one unmedicated, two Clomid, two Femara, and four Menupur cocktails mixed on the ironing board). By the time we got to our last one I just knew deep in my soul that it would fail. I was barely going through the motions with this one – my “Hail, Mary.”

We had already felt called to try to adopt rather than to pursue more treatment cycles after this one and had an orientation meeting planned three days before the final anticipated “I’m sorry, it’s negative” phone call from Nurse Mona. But ladies, I was not going to slink away from our IUI days with nothing to show for it!

How was I going to say goodbye to the wonderful nurse practitioners, staff, and sweet Mr. Rogers-esque OB/GYN? They had come to feel like trusted friends over the course of that 10 months, all of them trying to get me pregnant! It felt like walking away from a great relationship only because we discovered we had different goals and dreams.

I was determined to make this a farewell experience I could smile upon rather than snivel away in defeat. Not being one to take anything too seriously I hatched a plan. My Hannah’s Prayer girlfriends had at my request started calling me “Queen IUI.” I wore my virtual crown with pride! Every girl needs a tiara, and fortunately I had one from my wedding 3 years previously.

I took a book bag to this last procedure, and buried deep within were my wedding tiara and digital camera. I was going to live up to my rep of being reigning Queen IUI and snap a self-portrait following the procedure. After lying there for my obligatory 10 minutes of hip elevation I set the scene, making sure the stirrups were visible in my picture. The lights were off in the treatment room as I nervously put on my tiara, set up my camera on the shelf, and got down on my knees to take the picture.

“OK, let’s snap this pic and get out of here,” I thought, my heart racing. The camera clicked, I let out a deep breath, and the door opened! I heard “Dr. Rogers” say, “Oh, excuse me,” as the door quickly shut and he backed out. I don’t know if he could tell what I was furtively doing in the dark treatment room.

When I left the doctor’s office that day, my tiara stuffed back in my bag, I wore a smile. I knew I would miss the OB/GYN staff, miss the excitement of “What if it worked this time?” and the little thrill of seeing a happy fat follicle or two ready to be released. But I wasn’t leaving empty-handed! I wouldn’t have a baby 38 weeks later, but I would forever have a silly reminder of my 10-month reign as Queen IUI. I look back on that final IUI now with laughter and joy. It resulted in my first son joining our family by domestic infant open adoption one year later.

Amy is a lover of life, music, and yarn. She is passionate about open adoption. Amy tries not to take life too seriously - she once took a picture of herself wearing a tiara in the fertility doc's office - but she is serious about pointing others to the source of all comfort, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Author Website: Blessed by Adoption & Birth

Life in Exile

2011-05-16T05:00:00.059-04:00

I've heard the words hundreds of times. "I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11). Words often spoken with the intention of instilling hope, but so often they bring back that ugly bitterness in my heart.

What hope? What future, when the child I planned to raise is gone? When I don't know if I'll ever get pregnant again? I have been harmed – physically, emotionally, spiritually. What kinds of plans are these, God?

Sometimes, though, I forget that these words were spoken to a people who had as little reason to hope as I feel I do. The Israelites were in exile in Babylon. They were a conquered people; their city and temple had been destroyed; they were far from home, and decades away from the Lord restoring them to their land. The older ones would not live to see that day.

What hope, what future could they have? And yet, God gave them a task while they were in exile: Build houses. Settle down. Increase in number; do not decrease; seek the peace and prosperity of the city where you are exiled. In other words, live. Don't put life on hold, waiting to return to the Promised Land.

When I lost my daughter Naomi at eighteen weeks gestation, I felt like I was going into exile. I had been in the pregnancy "club" where women talk about birth and labor and nurseries and baby showers, where the doctor's office was full of pregnancy magazines. When I went back for a check-up after our loss, they scheduled me at a time for gynecology appointments, not pregnant women.

The waiting room was the same, but I noticed – the magazines were gone. In their place were women's magazines that didn't scream "baby" on the cover. And while I'm sure they did that to save women the heartache of the reminder of what they'd lost, to me it was a stark reminder that I had switched club memberships, from expectant mother to mother of a baby in heaven.

I'd been exiled from the Promised Land. I felt conquered, defeated, without hope.

And yet – God had a task for me, too. To "increase, not decrease" – by committing myself to continue growing spiritually, emotionally, and relationally. Would my time in exile end with a less mature woman than I had been at the beginning? Or would I use this time to grow? "Build houses" – I needed to commit to building the family and marriage that I have been given.

Marriages have the potential to suffer terribly after the loss of a child. Would mine become a statistic, or would it come through stronger? "Seek the peace and prosperity" of my city of exile. I do not like the city of Pregnancy Loss.

I don't think anyone who lives here does. But while I'm here, I can seek the peace and prosperity of those who live here with me – through prayer, encouragement, and a shoulder to cry on. I can build friendships with others who have been exiled here with me and help bring them back to the Promised Land – not the Land of Pregnancy, necessarily, but the Land of Hope and the Future, where we seek and find the One who does have plans for us and who longs to hold us in his comforting arms. And by seeking their "peace", I find peace, too, both within myself and with God.

Kristi and her husband are Yankees transplanted in South Carolina, where they met in seminary over ten years ago. Their ministry, Naomi's Circle, is an outreach to parents who have lost babies during pregnancy or shortly after birth. In her "free" time, she enjoys reading, handbells, and writing.

Author's Blog: This Side of Heaven

Love

2011-05-15T05:00:00.003-04:00

"Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me!"

Psalm 66:20

What I Learned from Being Childless on Mother’s Day

2011-05-13T05:00:00.023-04:00

So, Mother’s Day has come and gone, and for many it wasn’t the happy, wondrous experience you wished it would be. Instead, it was painful, difficult, and an awkward reminder of unfulfilled hopes and dreams that seem as if they’ll never come true. I know that feeling. Twenty years of infertility taught me that Mother’s Day can be just, well, hard.

Even now, when years of extensive treatments have resulted in children at last, Mother’s Day still holds a strange mix of emotions. And yet, it’s also a reminder of something God taught me one Mother’s Day years ago. It happened like this:

It was the day I dreaded most of the whole year. I clutched my Bible to my chest and stepped into the church sanctuary. On the altar, a vase brimmed with delicate roses. I rubbed my hand over my suddenly-chilled skin as quiet music drifted from the speakers above. Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not . . .

Compassion, Lord? Where’s Your compassion for me?

Too soon, the service began. The Pastor stepped to the pulpit with a huge grin on his face. “Can I have all the mothers come up front, please?”

I lifted my chin and tried to keep it from trembling as dozens of flowered dresses rose from their seats and swayed toward the altar. Then, as I feared, it was only me, the men, the children, and . . . wait a minute!

To my right, a little old lady with white hair still sat. Dora. Why hadn’t I noticed that she never went up on Mother’s Day before?

Her shoulders, though rounded now with age, didn’t tremble as the Pastor handed a rose to each mother. Her eyes weren’t watery like mine, and her mouth wasn’t turned down. Even as the women came back down the aisle, their roses in hand, Dora was smiling. Really smiling, not just that “I-need-to-try-to-look-pleasant-so-no-one-suspects” type of smile. She had joy. On Mother’s Day. How did she manage that?

When the time came to stand up and greet one another, I hurried toward Dora. She turned, her hand extended.

“How do you do it?” I asked.

Her smile broadened, as if she knew just what I meant. “It will always be hard, dear.” She patted my arm with one thin hand. “You never get over the wishing.” Her voice softened. “But for today, just today, let God be enough.”

“Enough of what?”

Dora paused and looked me directly in the eye. “Enough to love.”

Enough to love. As I pondered those three simple words throughout the day, I discovered in them the secret to surviving Mother’s Day, to surviving every day where wishing and disappointment clashed in my heart. Despite the pain, despite the longing, I needed to remember God’s love for me, and mine for Him. I needed to look beyond my ache for a child, and focus on telling Jesus that I loved Him, even now when my arms were empty, even on the hardest day of the year. And if I could do that, perhaps, just perhaps, I too would find the joy that was more beautiful than any dew-tipped rose.

Now, years later, Mother’s Day is still a reminder to me that I love God, and He loves me, even (and maybe especially) in the midst of dreams that aren’t coming true, of prayers that remain unanswered. He is enough to love.

Marlo Schalesky is the author of Empty Womb, Aching Heart, (nonfiction, infertility) as well as novels such as Shades of Morning (just named a RITA finalist!), If Tomorrow Never Comes (about infertility), and the Christy Award winning Beyond the Night. Despite 20 years of infertility and 6 miscarriages, she’s now the mother of 6. Find her at www.VividGod.com or www.facebook.com/MarloSchalesky.

Surrender

2011-05-11T05:00:00.037-04:00

It started with a spark, an angry flare breaking through my depression-shuttered emotions. After more than a year of feeling nothing but silence from Him, I lashed out at God (and found, to my surprise, He was big enough to handle it). I stopped pretending that I was a “good Christian” - to me this definition meant I didn't have permission to be angry with God - and gave Him the brunt of my accusations over my seeming abandonment.

The anger was enough to drag me from my bed where I had hidden, refusing to eat or care for personal needs the past three days since Mother's Day. I stomped my feet, shook my fists toward heaven, then flung my Bible across the room in utter disillusionment.

When the Book landed, I was overcome with remorse. (Honestly, I think I was waiting for the lightning bolt to strike for my impertinence as well!) I rushed over to find my Bible laying open to Hannah's story in First Samuel, chapter one.

...the LORD had closed [Hannah's] womb... This went on year after year... she wept and would not eat...
“I am a woman who is deeply troubled... I was pouring out my soul to the LORD... I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”
- from 1 Samuel 1:6-16 (NIV)

Of all pages for my Bible to fall open to when I threw my temper tantrum, I felt God had a really sick sense of humor at that moment. I sat down defiantly to read the Words back to Him, to prove to God how unjust He really was.

Hannah knew my heartache, but God was a cruel “Indian-giver.” He not only allowed Hannah those years of barren anguish He could have easily prevented, but when He finally did grant her the desires of her heart, He demanded her child right back again. I couldn't trust a God like that!

In spite of my rebellion, God's Word began to burn through the bitterness rooted in my heart. For the first time I saw in Hannah's story that God never demanded Samuel of Hannah. She offered her son, out of free will and in full understanding that her arms would be empty once again, out of praise to God simply because of Who He is.

God broke through the hardness and grief-deep tears to whisper to my battered soul, “My child, you cannot treat me according to the gifts I give or choose to withhold. I AM worthy of your praise, no matter what!”

I knew that if my blistered spirit was to find relief, I could no longer “delight myself in the Lord,” in an effort to “earn” the desire of my heart. With Hannah, I had to truly entrust the outcome of my deepest longings to His care.

I can't say I never questioned God again, for unfortunately I sometimes forget how He has proved Himself faithful over and over. I can't even say that I never again endured depression, for even today I am on a mild anti-anxiety medication, along with some herbal supplements to keep my chemical levels in balance in order to allow healthy function.

What I can say is that God who had been my Savior since childhood, finally became my Lord that Mother's Day week in 1994. He took my heart of stone and began softening it that Wednesday, planting seeds and preparing it for something far larger than anything I could imagine. It took until the following January before Hannah's Prayer Ministries was officially born out of this struggle, interestingly enough, about the gestational length of a human pregnancy.

God wants my honesty rather than my piety. I had been so impatient with His plan, frustrated in His silence. All along He had been tenderly holding me, waiting for my willingness to yield to the Words of comfort He longed to speak to my heart.

I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD.
- Psalm 40:1-3 (NIV)

If you would like to know more of the back story behind this one, please visit me today on the Hannah's Hope book blog .

Jennifer Saake is the author of Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage & Adoption Loss and a co-founder of Hannah's Prayer Ministries. She loves writing and balks at word count limitations. A wanna-be gardener, Jenni eagerly awaits each spring, optimistically forgetting her lost battle to weeds of the previous summer. Her quest is to find the perfect natural, sugar-free dark chocolate.

Author Website: Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in Infertility & Loss

When I Became Infertile

2011-05-09T05:00:00.061-04:00

Becoming Infertile
Infertility is a state of mind. Doctors define infertility as “unable to conceive after a year of unprotected sex”. I have learned that for some infertility begins after a few unsuccessful cycles, and for others it starts after years without birth control. For me, I became infertile on Sunday, May 8, 1994.

After four years of marriage, we stopped using birth control. The months of trying turned into years. After about 3 years, I admitted that, maybe, there was something wrong.

I scheduled an appointment with a leading infertility specialist. I went to my appointment and for the first time considered that I might not ever become a mom. But to me, I still was not infertile. That first doctor appointment was on a Thursday. Three days later I felt infertile for the first time.

It was Mother’s Day. Our pastor had asked all mothers to stand and he said, “Everyone who expects to someday be a mother, please stand.” I froze. Last week, I believed that I would someday be a mother. Today, I had no hope of ever becoming a mother. Several friends urged me to stand. I woodenly obeyed. They were handing out flowers to all of the mothers and “someday” mothers. I grabbed my flower and ran to the bathroom where I cried until I had no tears left.

What had happened during those three days? How had I gone from wondering if something was wrong to knowing something was wrong? Over the next few months, testing confirmed that I was not ovulating.

Support in an Unexpected Place
About a year later I joined America Online and found message boards under Christianity Online. I started posting to see if there were other women facing this giant called “infertility”.

I was amazed as other women started sharing their stories. I decided to create an “Infertility Master List”. The idea was to set up pen pals between women with similar stories. That never quite happened, and instead, we all began to e-mail each other. Among the first five people who contacted me, our stories touched on all stages of infertility. I was amazing to watch how God brought us from our individual places of diversity to a place of common support.

Over the next few years the email group grew. We set up a website, an email list server, and started setting up discussion groups so that women could share the experiences of their unique journeys with one another. We had over 2000 members from more than a dozen countries, in about 60 assorted groups representing various stages of infertility and diagnoses. Many of our members were also active members of Hannah’s Prayer. One day it became clear to both Jenni Saake and I that it was time to merge the two groups into one. Ironically, the merger brought us full circle: we once again moved to a message board format.

Healing Begins
In my darkest days of infertility, I was able to cling to my hope in Christ. And I found that when I opened myself up and allowed God to use my pain, I began to heal. The more complete I became, the more I was able to help others begin to heal.

All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, He brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (The Message)

Julie Donahue has been married 24 years to her best friend, John. A full time working mom of 3 miracles, Julie is known widely as Mom2Ways (by birth and by adoption). Julie is the founder of Ladies in Waiting, an e-mail-based infertility support group that eventually joined with Hannah’s Prayer Ministries.

A Mother's Day Letter

2011-05-08T05:00:00.038-04:00

Dear Friend,

As I write this letter to you for Mother’s Day, I wonder where you are and what state your heart is in.

Maybe you are wondering how to get through church without having to run crying from the service.

Perhaps you decided that you needed to skip church today to maintain your grip on sanity.

You might be in a good place, able to concentrate on the blessings God has granted you.

Or perhaps you are reeling from loss, barely holding on to hope.

You may be spending this day with family, unsure how you will handle your sorrow in front of everyone.

Wherever you are in your infertility journey, I want you to know that I am praying for you today. You are not alone. God knows you, sees you, hears you.

Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless, surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them. ~ Psalm 10:17

During our second year of infertility I discovered the best way for me to handle Mother's Day. I was feeling raw and fragile as the day approached and wondered how I could do all the normal things that go with that day. It was when I received my church worship schedule that I made the decision to skip church and stay home the entire day.

You see, I was scheduled to sing that Sunday and I didn’t know how I could possibly stand in front of the whole church and sing without breaking down in tears. The emotion was too fierce, too devastating to be on display. It felt like I was trying to hold together the pieces of a broken vessel and the slightest pressure would cause it (me) to shatter.

My husband and I ended up having a nice day at home, just the two of us. It worked out so well that we have skipped every year since. I make a nice breakfast and lunch for the two of us and we simply spend time together, watching movies or planting flowers.

This year we will be going to church and spending the day with my parents. I haven't spent Mother's Day with my own mom in the longest time. My goal is to focus on my mom and have a good day with family.

I also make sure to set aside time to encourage, love, and pray for my fellow sisters struggling with infertility.

So, how can I pray for you today?
What are you currently struggling with?
What are your fears, your longings?

All my longings lie open before you, O Lord, My sighing is not hidden from you. ~ Psalm 38:9

Rachel and her husband live in Maryland, home of the world's finest crab cakes. Her heart for women facing the struggle of infertility has led to an active, encouraging role on Hannah's Prayer Community Forums. When she isn't laughing with her husband, Rachel can be found cooking, blogging, and hanging with girlfriends.

Author website: Portrait Rachel

Mother's Day, Being a Mom after Infertility

2011-05-06T05:00:00.021-04:00

I got myself ready for church, trying to be excited that for the first time I could celebrate this day as a mother. I had a difficult time feeling excited. I knew it was such a painful day for so many women who longed to be called "Mother" or "Mama" or "Mommy".

I knew today I would be seeing a friend of mine who was in the very depths of infertility. I ached for her. I knew it would be difficult for me to rejoice while my friend was hurting.

As I wondered what I could do for her, it hit me. Write her a quick note…

I took a moment to jot down that she was loved and cherished and thought of by me and by the Lord on this very day. It gave me so much joy to give her that note: to be able to think of her and not my state of motherhood.

I cringed going into worship and what awaited us, knowing that church can sometimes be the most painful place for the infertile heart. I sat next to my friend unable to enjoy the day to its fullest.

Some of you may be asking why, unable to understand. Why would I not want to celebrate?

Well, because I've been there. Because I've been that hurting soul, wanting to hide under the covers unable to face another day childless especially on this very day that celebrates what I couldn't have.

I wanted to hug and comfort my friend without making it worse for her. Instead, I prayed. I prayed for my friend and for the countless women I know that grieve silently and deeply on this day.

To my relief, the service focused on celebrating women in general. The message was not focused on mothers alone and each girl and woman walked out of church with a flower. My heart and step were a bit lighter and I was very thankful to the pastor for being mindful of hurting hearts.

Even though I've had a similar path as my friend it got me wondering. Are we always quick to lend a shoulder to cry on or try as we might to put ourselves in their shoes? Or do we pat their back and say some words that sound helpful to us, but only leave the person hurting more?

I challenge you during this time, even in the midst of joy and celebration of your mother, or being a mother to take a moment to think of those around you who may have lost a mother or those who so greatly desire to be a mother.

Can you be a shoulder to cry on or offer a silent hug to show you care? I promise you, it will make a difference.

So that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it. 1 Corinthians 12:25-26 (NASB)

Tina and her family share a deep passion for Jesus. Currently residing in Madrid, Spain, their work in missions & communications have also taken them to Russia & the Czech Republic. Over a decade of globe-trotting suits her just fine: she loves to experience different cultures. Fueled by a healthy addiction to coffee, she loves blogging and educating others about infertility and loss.

Author Website: Life of A MissyMom

God Sees

2011-05-04T05:00:00.004-04:00

I thought I was finally “strong enough” this year. Out of self-preservation I had intentionally avoided church the past few Mother's Days but the pain was less consuming now and the Lord had worked much healing in my heart. I thought I could finally set aside my pain to selflessly honor my mother-in-law and grandmother by attending with them. Do you notice all those "I" statements there? Here's one more: I was wrong!

When all mothers were asked to stand, I squirmed more deeply into my seat. Six and a half years into this journey, my only claim to the title of motherhood was the early miscarriage of our daughter four years before. I wanted to stand in Noel's honor, but feared doing so might wrongly be interpreted as an announcement and I couldn't bear coping with untangling any such confusion on a day like this.

I tried to smile and find genuine joy, but grief stole in uninvited as the tears silently streamed down my face. I struggled to breathe evenly so as not to make obnoxious sniffling noises that would further shine the spotlight on this barren woman intruding on a Mother's Day service.

I learned God-worship when my pride was shattered. Heart-shattered lives ready for love don't for a moment escape God's notice. - Psalm 51:17 (The Message)

She slipped up silently as heads were bowed in prayer. She came for a reason and lingered only a moment. She didn't know my story, never asked a word. She may have imagined my tears stemmed from the loss of my mother, an abusive past, unsettled relationships, abortion, hollow womb, empty arms...

It really didn't matter why. The fact was that she noticed my tears and didn't ignore them. Yet in not pretending I was unseen, she was also sensitive enough not to intrude on my grief uninvited.

The pink carnation she gently laid in my lap meant more to me than gold. Her humble gift spoke hope to my heart, the reminder that I have a God Who Sees. The bitter turned to bittersweet, the tears of anguish intermingled with tears of gratitude. I'll never know her name, but I'm forever thankful for her sensitive heart.

She answered God by name, praying to the God who spoke to her, "You're the God who sees me!
"Yes! He saw me; and then I saw him!"
- Genesis 16:13 (The Message)

A dozen years and many life changes later, that dried carnation remains a withered yet beautiful reminder that God never overlooks the details. When I step out in faith to obey Him even in the hardest things, He meets me right where I am. It's not about me or my strength, but rather what God can do through the sacrifice of my brokenness. In my weakness, God's strength more than meets my lack.

[God said,] “My grace is enough; it's all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.”
- from 2 Corinthians 12:9 (The Message)

Jennifer Saake is the author of Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage & Adoption Loss and a co-founder of Hannah's Prayer Ministries. She loves writing and balks at word count limitations. A wanna-be gardener, Jenni eagerly awaits each spring, optimistically forgetting her lost battle to weeds of the previous summer. Her quest is to find the perfect natural, sugar-free dark chocolate.

Author Website: Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in Infertility & Loss

A Letter For Your Pastor

2011-05-02T05:00:00.045-04:00

Mother's Day is fast approaching, and for most of those who walk this road it can be one of the hardest days of the year.

This year, the team at Held and Hannah's Prayer Minisitries want to offer you a resource that could potentially make this difficult day just a bit easier.

Below you will find a letter we've drafted for pastors. Please feel free to email this to your pastor, or invite your pastor here to read it.

Dear Pastor,

Infertility is a medically recognized disease that affects men and women equally. It is defined as the inability to conceive or retain a pregnancy during a one-year period (6 months for a woman 35 years of age and older).

According to the CDC, there were 7.3 million people diagnosed as infertile in 2002. That number represents one in eight couples of childbearing age, some of whom sit in your congregation each Sunday. This number shows a 20% increase since the last count of 6.1 million in 1995. In addition, every year in the United States there are approximately 2 million women who experience pregnancy loss, ranging from miscarriage to stillbirth and infant death.

Infertility and loss is often such a private matter and not openly shared; it can often be a cause of a crisis of faith. The desire to reach what many label, “God’s highest calling” – a mother and father - can be a strong one.

This letter is sent to you as a reminder of the upcoming Mother's Day and Father's Day services- special days that celebrate family. It is a definite time for rejoicing and honor, but at the same time can bring about moments of anguish for those enduring the road of infertility or loss.

We’d like to ask that you please remember in your sermons and prayers those who have lost mothers and fathers, mothers and fathers who have lost children, mothers and fathers and children who are estranged from each other, and men and women who are unable to be mothers and fathers. It will not only comfort them; it will remind the moms and dads in your congregation who have been blessed that their children truly are wonderful gifts from the Lord.

Thank you for your consideration.

Warmly,

Hannah’s Prayer Ministries
www.hannah.org

Be blessed, friend.

Steps

2011-05-01T05:17:00.021-04:00

My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not stumbled.

Psalm 17:5

Eve's Daughters

2011-04-29T05:23:00.052-04:00

Mother's Day comes soon. One baby in heaven and still walking the road of infertility, I used to ask the question, "Am I a mother?"

I don't ask it anymore.

I have the answer.

A few years ago a coworker came running up to my desk with a smile on her face and excitement in her voice. "A greeting card you wrote has been nominated for an award!"

I asked what kind of card it was. Baby Congratulations.

As she walked away, I leaned back in my chair and pondered the irony. Then it seemed God's voice whispered right in the middle of my wondering…

I've said "yes" to every prayer for you to be a mother. It's just not in the way you imagined.

I knew then that God was bringing new life through my words.

I thought of Eve, described as the mother of all living.

I've come to believe all women are mothers because we all bring life to the world. Most often through the birth of physical children from our bodies.

But in other ways too…when we write, cook, plant, make beauty where there was none, speak an encouraging word, say a prayer, take a hand and form hope out of thin air, resurrect a marriage, save a life from poverty, bring forth light and truth and goodness in ways women are uniquely created to do.

We are mothers in more ways than one.

Because we are all Eve's daughters.

This is what I'll celebrate next Sunday: Yes, your physical children. But I won't stop there. I'll also celebrate the rest of you too…the mysterious weaving that makes you like no one else, the wonder and beauty that comes in and through you as you create with God, bring new life, in ways only you can.

I'm smiling as I type these words…smiling at the thought of you.

The miracle of you.

The miracle of motherhood.

To me, they are the same.

p.s. If Mother's Day is hard for you or someone you love, stop by Heart to Heart with Holley and download a free resource to help.

Holley Gerth is an author, counselor and speaker who's passionate about sharing God's heart for women through words. She'd love to have coffee with you. Until that happens, you're always invited to stop by Heart to Heart with Holley

In These Shoes

2011-04-27T05:10:00.013-04:00

I was no stranger to infertility or loss when I married my best friend.

My oldest sister has three precious babies she will not get to hold on this side of grace, and my second oldest sister struggled two years to have her first son… another four to have her second.

I was young when my three sisters were having their babies, or trying to. I finished high schools as nieces and nephews joined our extended family, and then I moved on to finish college. By then I had watched my sister walk a dark and lonely road in her desire for children. I didn’t understand it then… her grief, her longing, the isolation she drew about her as her sisters and friends announced pregnancy after pregnancy.

I remember the way our family used to talk about her struggle… how we decided that if she just relaxed, or spent less time desiring the children that they would simply come. We scratched our heads for a time and then assumed she was simply refusing to ‘get over it’.

I was no stranger to infertility or loss when my husband and I dreamed of growing our family. I was no stranger and yet I still made broad, naïve proclamations about how infertility wouldn’t affect me like that… how I would shrug it off, how it wouldn’t matter.

I didn’t understand then what I know now.
I understand the grief, the ever-aching loss of hopes and dreams, and the desperation in needing to know I had not been forgotten by God.

There is one thing I still don’t understand… how she managed to survive. How my brave, resilient, beautiful sister managed to survive this thing called infertility without the support that I eventually had. I walked this road surrounded by the love and fellowship of women at Hannah’s Prayer… women who understood.

And she walked this road alone.
So alone…
Without the understanding of family…
Surrounded by friends and sisters having baby after baby…
Working selflessly as a teacher to others’ once-babies…
Facing month after month of crushing disappointment…

And yet I do know how she managed to survive: pure grace… the one thing that carries us all.

You know, my sister and I were never very close growing up; quite the opposite, in fact! I know I uttered my fair share of naive ‘just relax’ and ‘just get over it’ statements in the midst of her pain. I spit out silly platitudes instead of offering silent comfort. I didn’t understand a fraction of her pain until I walked this lonely mile in her shoes.

And God, being the awesome, relational God that He is, used the shared pain of infertility to grow our relationship into a strong, joyful thing. He took the grief of infertility – a grief that can strain and stretch any relationship past its breaking point – and He brought beauty from ashes.

Infertility taught me that compassion doesn’t require understanding. We all know that life in this busted world carries with it heartache and sorrow and pain.

The God who loves us with an everlasting love, the One who walked in our shoes, calls us to love one another. And sometimes that means we just need to sit down, wrap our arms around grieving soul and hold them while they weep.

No words.
No fumbling for understanding.
Just sweet, silent love.

It will matter. I promise.

Thelma is wife, writer, and relentless joy-seeker: a Canadian girl learning to love God, her best friend and the joys and sorrows of their life as two. When she's not writing or putting her feet up, she likes to pretend she knows a thing or two about photography and dreams of running a marathon some day.

Author Website: Life as Two

Here For You

2011-04-25T05:00:00.006-04:00

Why are we here? For you, friend... we're here for you.
Are you just starting to wonder if you are infertile, reeling from a crushing diagnosis, striving to seek God's best plans as you consider medical treatment or adoption options?

Are you (im)patiently waiting on a seemingly-silent God who calls you to be still?

Have the years stretched out long and weary behind you and your arms still remain empty?

Perhaps you are trying to figure out what it looks like to be the parent of a Heaven-born child?

What do you do with all those hopes and prayers that were crushed when your adoption did not unfold as planned?

Has God closed all doors to traditional parenthood, drawing you to seek purpose, contentment and fulfillment as a family of two?

Has God's plan for your family included the addition of living children, but you find yourself surprised and confused by how the grief journey here has forever changed you?

Are you a "Burden Bearer," a family member, friend, church leader or supportive influence for anyone listed above? Would you like to better understand the journey in order to offer appropriate support and encouragement?

If you can answer, "Yes!" to any of these, Held is written with you in mind.

Welcome! We look forward to walking this road hand-in-hand with you.

Jennifer Saake is the author of Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage & Adoption Loss and co-founder of Hannah's Prayer Ministries. She loves writing & balks at word count limitations. A wanna-be gardener, Jenni eagerly awaits each spring, optimistically forgetting her lost battle to weeds of the previous summer. Her quest is to find the perfect natural, sugar-free dark chocolate.

Author Website: Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in Infertility & Loss

Risen!

2011-04-24T05:00:00.036-04:00

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.

Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead...”

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said.

They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him.
- Matthew 28:5-9 (NIV)

Just Two More Days!

2011-04-23T05:00:00.017-04:00

When dreams don't unfold as we anticipate, sometime we feel as though we are free-falling away from the protective hand of God. Even in times of grief, He promises that nothing can snatch us from His love.

Join us back here in just two more days as we introduce you to the newest ministry branch of Hannah's Prayer: Held.

Two more days!

In the meantime, are you connected? Check out the social media options in the sidebar!

Five More Days!

2011-04-20T05:00:00.005-04:00

What will Held hold for you?

Support.
Encouragement.
Maybe some laughter.
Probably a few tears.

We look forward to seeing you back here on April 25 as we kick off this new ministry!

Hosanna!

2011-04-17T04:00:00.018-04:00

They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting, “Hosanna!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Blessed is the King of Israel!”

John 12:13

Sneak Peek!

2011-04-15T06:00:00.001-04:00

We're so excited to 'open our doors' and let you have a first peek around!

Just 10 day left until the real deal!

Come back and join us on April 25, 2011 and see what Held is all about! Grab our button and help us spread the word that something fun and exciting is about to unfold!