I sat in the waiting room staring at my shoe and listening to a conversation discussing the best car seat covers. Although I had just as much right to jump in and add my two cents, I didn’t. Something about that office can still make me feel like I’m less than if I let it, even though to my core I believe the truth, that I am not.
The theme for this year’s National Infertility Awareness Week has been “flip the script.” It’s been amazing to see all the stories that have been shared over the past week of God’s goodness and His faithfulness in the middle of so much pain. It’s also been amazing to hear of miracle after miracle that He has performed in the stories of so many.
I might be experiencing delayed fertility, but that is not who I am. Infertility is NOT the end of my story. I was so honored to join with so many others in sharing my story on my dear friend, Caroline’s blog today! Head over to read the hope that is found in between every line..
Infertility is not who I am.
It’s not even what my story is about.
It’s just a chapter in my story, a season. And one day, before we know it, the page will turn and this chapter of infertility will come to an end. This season of infertility will be over and this promise that we have prayed for so long will be right before our eyes.
Even then, I never want to forget what I’ve learned here. How I’ve needed Him. How He has become THE gift. How He has become THE promise. How I’ve found places of His heart I would have never found if it wasn’t for infertility.
Most of the time, it’s easy for me to look at ugly and have eyes to see beyond, how beautiful it will one day be.
It’s easy for me to do this, because I know who Father is. I’m learning more and more of His heart. That it’s only in His character to do good and be good and give good. He turns bitter into sweet. He raises beauty up from the ashes. He redeems and rewrites and restores. When you know who He is, it’s easy to see past the ugly. Because when you walk in your true identity, a daughter knows her Papa will always rush in. He’ll come to the rescue. It’s just who He is, it’s what He does.
We binge watch Netflix after our kids go to bed like every other good parent does. Our favorite fictional character, Harold (from Persons of Interest), put so perfectly into words the state of my heart at the end of every month,
“Hope is painful.”
It’s been almost a year now, since I’ve felt the nudging from Jesus to stretch out my withered hand (or barren womb) and let Him heal me. Stretching out my withered hand means admitting that I really want healing. That I’m not okay with spending the rest of my life with a body that doesn’t work the way God intended. Stretching out my withered hand means that I am vulnerable at the end of every month and most of the days between.