You know, it amazed me how quickly trying to start our family turned from something exciting into something fearful. Every month began to feel like a failure. Like my body was failing us.
Three months in I couldn’t imagine what a year would be like, one year in and my heart aches for those with longer journeys than ours.
Every month you try, and then you wait. Oh, the dreaded wait. That waiting time feels like a test you have no control over. Will it be pass or fail this time? And even though I don’t have control, I still felt it was my fault when it was negative again.
I feel like it's my fault.
That failure is like a big monster laughing in your face as you fight back sobs and fall into your husband’s arms and tell him you’re so sorry.
Marriage gets really real in those moments.
And my husband is so tender, so kind. So quick to remind me every time that “it’s not your fault, hun.”
Which always made me cry harder.
Because he was so sweet.
Why, God, wouldn’t you give us this desire? If not for me, then for him?!
One month hit particularly hard. We were leading a team in Kenya last December. A couple days into the trip, my body told me I wasn’t pregnant. After a rather stressful departure experience (I somehow managed to leave my suitcase in our vehicle at church!) and two days of grueling travel, I was emotionally stretched, physically exhausted, and didn’t want to be distracted from the most amazing experience of serving the Lord in Kenya with my husband - a dream come true!!! But the cramps...and that flow...it messed with me. It got in my head.
You didn’t do it again. You can’t do this. You can’t get pregnant.
You’re not a good leader. Stop being so selfish! Just get over yourself and be joyful for the team!
Why are you so tired? So distracted? So empty?
You’re not even fit to be the wife of a pastor. You’re an awful person, an awful wife. So sinful.
You fail at everything!
I wish I could tell you I exaggerated those thoughts to write this.
But those are literally the thoughts that went through my head.
I shared some with Stephen one night in our hotel room. I think he was, for the first time in this journey, genuinely concerned if I was OK. We talked about a game plan to help me when I got home, hoping my mind was battling harder because of the malaria prophylaxis medications I was taking.
This was four months in.
This certainly wasn’t the fun let’s-start-a-family journey we thought it would be.
And yet somehow you know you’ll get through it. Even though you can’t bare the thought. But you feel like you’ll be a little bit more hollow on the other end.
You walk around like it’s a badge of shame. Hi, I’m Erin, the one who can’t bear children, one who’s too old, who’s eggs are all gone. One who fails her husband at the one thing she longs for most to give him. Fatherhood.
That’s me.
And we try again.
And again.
Maybe God is just waiting for a positive test in February, wouldn’t that be a nice birthday gift for Stephen?
And I dreamed of how I would tell him. Of the birthday gift I could surprise him with. Different scenarios running through my head. I think, of course, God - this is why it hasn’t happened yet! Of course! How sweet this will be!
But another negative.
God, this would have been great timing! Why? Why are you holding out?
A few days later, I attended the Forme event in Lawrenceville. A gathering of women for worship, the Word, fellowship. The speaker for this particular gathering was Rebekah Lyons, author of You Are Free: Be Who You Already Are. I rushed in a few minutes late, coming from work. I was tired and a bit frazzled, but I snuck in the row next to my sweet friend. Some worship to settle my soul, my pounding heart. And then Rebekah Lyons. About being free.
Here are the fragmented notes I took from her talk that night. They had a way of speaking right to me:
- Women are made from life to usher in life.
- There’s a contempt between the enemy and Eve. He’s gonna go after her ability to create life and he will try to prevent it.
- We go numb, we tune out, we lose our voice.
- Awareness breeds action. Always.
- Be aware of the hatred.
- The fall is around you, but the hope of glory is IN you.
- There’s a vulnerability we carry with authority. An anointing. A gentleness.
- He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me. - Psalm 18:19 (One of my favorite verses since God spoke through it a few years ago!!!)
- We are also always going to be given over to death so the resurrection of Jesus lives in us.
- Love casts out all fear. They can’t coexist.
- Are we willing to risk our reputation for freedom?
Wow.
And at the end of her message, we had a time of prayer, a time of releasing fear and walking in freedom.
I never walk forward for these things. Never.
But this night, I knew I needed to. Heart beating out of my chest, I made the long walk down the aisle. Hoping people wouldn’t notice it was me. I’m supposed to be fine. Have things together. I don’t want people to wonder what was wrong. Is it my marriage? No. But would they wonder?
Oh, fear, you stupid stupid thing!
Finally I was at the front. I shared my fear of not being able to have children with one of the women. And I was prayed over as the tears flowed down my cheeks.
I had finally named it.
Infertility.
And so began a deep desire to see it released.
It seemed simple enough. God has helped me release fears before. What I didn’t know was the depth of a hold this one had on me, and how releasing this fear would take longer and break harder than I ever thought.
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| Photo cred: Michele Zakeri |
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