Dear sweet woman who wants a baby...

Well I have a childhood friend that I grew up with who struggled with infertility. I ran across her a few years ago after going years and years of losing touch after they moved. She lives in Tuscaloosa now and has such a great way with words. God has used her to touch many many people, especially through infertility I am sure!! This is her latest blog post and as I try and try to help so many friends who are struggling, Rachel said it best! These are the feelings that literally every woman struggles with facing infertility. 

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Dear sweet woman trying to get pregnant,

I know you.  I see you in the checkout line at Target. I see you waiting in the same room as other women great with child.  I see your eyes trying not to look but not being able to help it.  I see the pain and the longing.  I recognize it right away.  I know the pain.  And the longing.  I know how hard it is to see bellies and babies and pregnancy announcements on Facebook and Instagram.  You are bombarded with images you wish you could ignore.   

I know you are tired. I know you are dreaming.  And still hoping.  I know it's an endless exhausting cycle.  I see your grief. I see how you try to act happy at the latest friend announcing her pregnancy (her first, second, and in some cases by now your friends are on their 3rd).  I know how your heart drops when your deepest longing is to be able to share the same.

I know you are now skipping baby showers.  You feel guilty, but you know it's best for your heart.  I see you avoiding phone calls and girls nights because you don't have anything to add since everyone else will be talking about pregnancy woes, newborns, or toddler antics.  I know how much you long to be able to discuss those things.

I see your browsing history online includes message boards about infertility, the best fertility clinics with the best success rates, and infertility blogs.  These people get you.  I know that.  I've hung out there too. Sometimes you just need people in your life who understand.

I know you're tired of the questions.  I see your face when another person asks, "so when are you two going to start a family?".  I know the frustration that brings.  I know you want to scream and shout. I know you wish you could be one of those couples who could just plan your family easily.  I see each holiday passing you by without being able to make a fun surprise announcement to your family and friends.  I see, instead, you begin to have the hard conversations with them.  Not wanting to see the pain on their faces. Not wanting the awkwardness to follow with your friends.

I hear you make that first call to the clinic. I see you nervously going to your first appointment.  There is fear.  Anxiety.  Always hope. I see you get poked and prodded and doing things you would have never thought you would have to do.  I see you wondering and asking why this is your lot.  When there are babies being aborted.  Babies being abandoned. I see your eyes get big when the first bill arrives.  I know you and your husband are selling things and figuring out where the money will come from.  I know you would do anything to make it happen.

I know how tired you are from negative pregnancy tests.  How you want them to have a second line or quickly flash the words you so long to see.  I see you laying prostrate on the cold tile in your bathroom grieving once again.  It seems hopeless. It seems dark and lonely.  It seems no one understands that infertility is some of life's most exhausting grief.  I see you every month second guessing what your body is doing.  Hoping against hope this will be the month.  I see your dreams crushed again and the sobs rocking your body. Your husband sits helplessly stroking your hair.  He would do anything to make the pain go away.  I see you hating his own private grief.  I know he hates the clinic visits too.  I know the fun of making a baby is long past.  

But I see your resolve too.  Your determination.  Your hope.  

I want you to know that even though I now have 4 children of my own, I see you.  I really do.  My hearts knows your heart and I recognize your weary eyes.  I will never forget.  I know you.  I also know a God in heaven who writes the best stories.  They don't always come about in ways we want or expect.  His stories are kingdom stories who point to a Rescuer who knows you better than I, or any other woman who has struggled with infertility, ever will.  He came to rescue us from our sin and from the darkness of this world.  He fights for you and me. He feels our pain and has suffered on our behalf.  He has given us a better hope. Even in the deep pain and grief, He is there.  He knows you best. I hope you will trust Him. I hope you will give all your dreams and hopes to Him and watch as His story for your life unfolds.