Suffering comes in many forms- the death of a loved one, an illness, disability, financial loss, divorce, and the list goes on. But when it knocked at my door as infertility and pregnancy loss, IT BROKE ME.  

We were married for three years when we became pregnant. My brain immediately started planning that baby’s future nursery ideas, names, and future birthday party themes and brainstorming a unique way to tell our parents the BIG NEWS. But on a night out with friends, we ended up in a sea of RED. After the medical intervention, we were told, “There is nothing we can do.” The events of that night remain etched in my mind. Then came the unbearable pain of the miscarriage process.  

I should tell you now, I do not like the word MISCARRIAGE. To me, the word implies we, as women, did something wrong that caused our babies to die. NOT TRUE! We experienced three more early losses after that. If you are keeping count, that is four babies in total. 

Each loss was scarier and more devastating than the one before. Inside, I thought, “THIS IS NOT HOW OUR STORY WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!”

As hard as this is to admit, I thought at the time that I had the right to demand God to give me a baby. I was a “good person,” a Christian; why would God not give me a child on earth? During this time, the lies of our enemy were so loud, trying to make me feel defective, unable to do the one thing God created a woman’s body to do. I was overwhelmed with shame, anxiety, hopelessness, isolation, and loneliness. I began unraveling…..completely undone.

Eventually, we consulted a Christian fertility doctor. Nothing spells romance like a fertility doctor, right? The following year was full of doctor visits, pills, shots, and procedures. Each step left us vulnerable and strained financially and emotionally.

A year later, God gave us our miracle baby boy, but after the birth, we experienced complications. The next twelve months were a roller coaster of emotions. 

Our fourth miscarriage, when our son was two years old, left me in heavy darkness. The grief I experienced at that time was OVERWHELMING and seemed to come in tsunami waves. Then we faced years of being unable to conceive (unexplained infertility-YUCK!). Eventually, we received a positive pregnancy test that I feared would end in another heartbreak. After a complicated pregnancy, God gave us another son. Due to my health issues, doctors advised us not to have more biological children, as the risks for both me and the baby were too great. That news was sobering and brought a grief of its own.

I would love to tell you that God was the FIRST person I turned to in our suffering, but that is not my story- doctors, specialists, and Google were my first resorts. When I became desperate, that is when I looked up to God. I was saved, but I wanted what God could do FOR ME more than I wanted Him in that season. My relationship with the LORD was shallow. I was essentially a “box checker” Christian.  

In his loving kindness, He used my brokenness to get me to the end of myself. He began teaching me His character through the Bible and exposing the condition of my heart. God used infertility and loss to refine me in so many ways, and I am forever thankful. I learned my identity is in Him, not in being Mother. He was NOT punishing me; He was NOT ABSENT or SILENT in my suffering. Yes, He wounded me deeply but restored me even more powerfully. As the hymn goes, “Whatever My Lot Thou Hast Taught Me To Say, It Is Well, It Is Well, With My Soul.”