I was bitter.
I first realized it when the nurse called me back, saying, “You’re here to see the doctor about your infertility, right?” My heart sank, and I snapped back at her, “I’m not infertile, we’re just having a hard time getting pregnant.”
I recognized the bitterness immediately. I was keenly aware that deep in my heart I loathed the words she’d spoken. I resented being labeled. I was angry that she didn’t choose kinder, more understanding words, and I hated the fact that I had to be there at all.
That interaction with the nurse was just the start. As my husband and I began to open up about infertility, we heard so many hurtful, heartbreaking things. And it wasn’t until years later that I realized that most of those words were spoken with the kindest of intentions.
“Please consider adoption, millions of children need a good home.”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to have children, you’re just suppose to pour your life into other people’s kids.”
“Do you really think pursuing fertility treatments is ‘trusting God’ with your family and your future?”
“I have a friend who got pregnant the month after she miscarried.”
“God knows best and His plan is for good and not for evil.”
What were meant as helpful suggestions and encouraging words sounded more like judgmental statements, clichés, and platitudes. And goodness did I hate hearing those things. At my lowest point I stared back at my screaming self in the bathroom mirror and realized that my heart was just as hollow and cold as my childless womb.
Infertility is, unfortunately, not something I can control. But my actions, the way I react to (perceived) hurtful words, the words I say to my husband when it is evident that we are still not pregnant, and how I respond to my friends’ baby announcements are completely within my control. I have this wonderfully challenging opportunity to be in control of how I respond to the circumstances that I cannot control.
We stand in need of grace.
About a year ago I realized how desperately I need grace. I need grace from my husband because he is most often the brunt of all my screaming and crying. I need grace from our parents because I often overlook their grief and frustration. I need grace from the friends from whom I have distanced myself in an attempt to protect my heart.
We need to demonstrate grace.
As much as I need grace from others, it is so clear to me that I must demonstrate grace to those around me. I tend to be quite sarcastic, but responding to questions with snark and sarcasm really doesn’t help others see what an emotionally paralyzing journey infertility can be. Shutting down and shutting up doesn’t invite friends and family to be supportive and encouraging of our journey. And harboring bitterness and anger towards those who mean well doesn’t show them how their words can sometimes be more hurtful than helpful.
And yes, I need to show myself grace too. When fertility treatments result in weight gain and I don’t recognize myself in the mirror: grace. When I feel like I can’t face another day of wondering and waiting, so I end up staying in my jammies and watching Netflix: grace. When I refuse to answer the phone because I don’t want to talk to anyone: grace.
Nurturing a Spirit of Grace:
Nurturing a spirit of grace in the midst of infertility is sometimes as challenging as the journey itself, but I’ve found that as I strive to offer grace to others and myself, healing comes in the most quiet and surprising ways.
When I remember that my husband is as brokenhearted as I am, and needs comfort and encouragement just as much as I do, the temptation to cry and scream at him is easier to resist.
When I remember that our friends hurt for us and wish they knew what to say, it helps their words seem more like the genuine attempts at encouragement that they are.
When I remind myself that my value and worth is in no way tied to how much I weigh or what I look like, I realize it’s a small price to pay for a chance to be a mommy.
As I continue to pursue a spirit of grace, the deeply rooted bitterness slowly fades way. Old wounds begin to heal, and this journey takes on new purpose.
Nurturing a spirit of grace is certainly a challenge. In what areas do you feel you need to nurture a spirit of grace?
Beautifully spoken!!! It is hard to put into words the anger, frustration, fear, etc. of infertility. I find the hardest part for me is the jealousy. Something that some women don’t have to give a thought to (I want a baby, ok let’s get pregnant) consumes my whole world. Thanks for sharing your story. Grace…we sure need it. And it’s hard to give it.
Oh Mary, you’re so right! It is so hard to explain the grief and frustration we experience, isn’t it? But I think it is so important try and communicate those feelings (with grace!) because otherwise our friends and family may never know what we’re going through.
Thank you for your encouragement!
This is so raw and so needed. Thank you for helping us get into your shoes. Thank you for being so open and honest – this will bless so many who don’t have the words to describe and it helps with perspective with others so they can have that grace.
Thank you, Renee. This was as much a reminder for me as it was an offering of encouragement!
I agree, what a great article. My husband and I have been trying for over a year now and there is denial involved on why it’s just not happening. I don’t like discussing “infertile” with people because I feel bitter towards what they will say and possibly what their reaction is. I think even with the best of intentions some people just don’t think about what they are saying and how it could still hurt. I feel bitter but have been trying to do better work on myself so I stop feeling that way. My husband and I have started communicating more openly about this as well since we really kept a lot of things bottled up for too long. I think this 1 year journey is finally starting to become an eye opener and we are working on us as a couple to become stronger together. Thank you again for a great article because it just really struck home!
Hi Laura,
OH man, I totally know what you mean about being in denial. I think sometimes I’m STILL in denial – even four years later. And even now I cringe inwardly when I hear some of the things people say. Often times they don’t know how their words sound to us, but it still stings. Grace all the way around, right?
Thanks for your encouragement!
I think it would be hard to NOT be in denial. Here we are as women and feeling like how can this be? How can time still be ticking away and yet nothing happens for me? People just don’t think and that’s what makes it hard because we are thinking… almost every day we get to think about how we aren’t pregnant and maybe even more.. what’s wrong with me or us? I started doing mantras to myself to remind myself that I love ME all the while I push the negative out. I was in denial last year when I miscarried because I just didn’t want to believe it was true and then someone said “oh you can always adopt” and that stung.. a lot. If there is one thing I wish is people would just think before they speak, think about the emotions that we are all dealing with even internally. We as women need to support one another and not say hurtful things, even if you can’t relate or don’t understand.
People do say hurtful things, and most of the time they never know how much their words sting. I keep trying to remind myself it’s not just me. I’m not alone in this!
Oh, I understand every word of this all too well. I am often reminded of the beginning of James 4:6 ~ “But He giveth more grace.” I’m glad even when I feel like I’ve run out of grace for others and for myself, God keeps giving grace, and I can rise and face another day. Thank you for your raw, honest words and reminding me that we can all use more grace.
Amen, Naomi! I love to remind myself of II Corinthians 12:9 – “My Grace is sufficient for you.” I cling to that I seek to demonstrate grace to others.
Thank you for your encouragement and for sharing a little piece of your story.
Beautifully said.
Danielle, please please continue this series. It speaks SO much to where we are after 9 years of marriage with no children, and nearly 2 years after our “official” diagnosis. We knew something was wrong before that, but that was when we found out WHAT the issue was. I’ve only started talking about it more in the past 6 months or so and I feel like the pain has become more manageable. Not less painful, just more bearable.
Hi Stacy,
I’m so sorry for your long struggle. My husband and I have been dealing with infertility for 4 years, and our diagnosis is “unexplained infertility.” It can be so very frustrating. My own journey has been very painful, but, at least for now, I’m in a place where I do have peace with the pain. And that keeps me moving forward every day.
Wow. This is what I needed to hear today. Thank you for your simple words that were really to the point in an amazing way. I was thinking today about how I have isolated myself from others and your words showed me how I need to extend grace to them and the comments they make (that really are from a place of kindness). Thank you for your insight and letting me know I’m not the only one who has struggled with the bitterness of infertility.
I definitely have to work on bitterness. I don’t respond with snark remarks but in my mind or to my husband I will replay what was said and what I should have said… It is hard to not be emotional, I have to constantly remind myself that my emotions are just as important as anybody else’s but not to allow them to control me.
Thank you, I am currently dealing with infertility and this was very helpful. GOD BLESS YOU
I feel the same as you do.