A few weeks back the pastor at our church gave a homily referencing the First Reading from 2 Kings about a woman who was without child. The prophet Elisha promised her that “this time next year you will have a baby son.” Our pastor mentioned about the prayer requests he receives from couples struggling with infertility who so badly want to start a family and have children.

He then went on to say that he has seen many times couples adopt and then go on to have one or more biological children. Something I absolutely hated hearing when we were in the adoption process. It seemed almost every other person would say, now just watch after you adopt you will get pregnant. I grew so frustrated with this. Not that I had given up hope or didn’t have faith that with God all things are possible. It was that I had accepted the cross of infertility, let go of my own plans and accepted God’s will.

There we sat in the pew. Our beautiful sons who came to us through adoption, an 18 month old and a baby in the womb who we will meet so very soon. I had to laugh at first, we were the stereotypical family Father was describing. Yet, before I knew it tears were beginning to find their way down my cheeks. It surprised me that I was getting so emotional over what he was talking about, the crosses we carry, not always seeing our prayers being answered.

I couldn’t pin point it. Was it pregnancy hormones. Tears of thankfulness and joy having been blessed with four beautiful children after years of suffering. Or remembering the pain of the cross which we carried for so many years. Reflecting on it more I think they were both tears of joy and those of pain.

The cross was heavy and at times made me feel like I was breaking. A cross carried for seven years, the weight never seeming to lighten. So many moments of crying out to God both in sorrow and in anger. Pleading and wondering if my prayers were ever being heard.

In the pain and waiting God was at work. His plan was being revealed in ways we never could have imagined. Although it seemed my heart was breaking, he was making it anew. When my faith seemed shaken he was strengthening every thread that was left.

Tears of joy, so much joy. Within a 2 1/2 year time span we went from 0 to 4 children. I sat in the pew with my arms and heart full. In awe of God’s goodness. My family created in beautiful ways I never could have imagined. God’s perfect timing. His perfect will. “Remember the marvels the Lord has done.” Psalm 105

In reality not every couple’s story turns out like ours, not every cross is always lifted. Yet God is still at work, his hand their to guide us, his love their to forever sustain us.

To hear the entire homily, select July 2 and start it around 24:00.

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, it was designated by President Ronald Reagan in October 1988. I was only made aware of this a few years ago. Perhaps I found out because of the increase of technology, wide spread use of social media or having my own blinders removed when my life was personally impacted. I like to think that maybe after all of these years awareness is happening.

With that said you will probably find me doing several posts this month related to the topic. No matter how short the life lived, they have forever impacted your journey and constantly remain in your heart.

It’s important to raise awareness for those who have experienced the loss, those who are grieving and those who never knew how to grieve. Even more so to let them know they are not alone.

Even though one in four pregnancies ends in the loss of a baby, doesn’t mean the feelings are less real or the hurt less deep. Although the intention may be well meaning, the grief can sometimes seem written off by statements made by family, friends and the medical community.

I have found that no matter how many times you experience it, it doesn’t get easier. Yes, you may feel like you can navigate the waters better and know what you need as you go through the process. It doesn’t take away that each time is a loss, because every life is unique, precious and beautiful, not just another statistic.

My heart goes out to each and every one of you that has experienced a loss in this way. You will be in my thoughts and prayers in a special way. During this month may you find more healing, more peace and may more awareness be made.

I think one of the more difficult things for couples suffering infertility is the constant reminder of what you don’t have. None of it is done directly, but simply comes with the territory and is just part of the ache that continually stays in your heart.

I feel lately I have been experiencing more of those reminders. Awkward moments when people ask, how many kids do you have or I bet your family is on your case to have kids. Without fail every time…I produce awkward silence…wondering how I should answer. As often as I get the question I am beginning to think I should have already come up with a generic answer by now, a go to response, but I seem to be thrown every, single, time.

I realize a generic answer doesn’t always work depending on the person or situation, but I usually always walk away wondering if I should have said something different or something more. Then again what if I would say too much, the last thing I want to do is make anyone uncomfortable with my answer.

Do I share about the miscarriages, do I share about the adoption, do I share about the desire in my heart to be a mom or do I choose to just be silent? More often than not I choose the latter. A simple no, followed by silence, and I move on to change the topic.

No matter what the situation, the end result is always the same the reminder of what I don’t have. The continual reminder of the road we have been on for the past 6+ years and the feeling like sometimes we are the only ones.

I guess if there is no other purpose to this post, it’s to say I know what you are going through. The thoughts and feelings of wondering what others are thinking about you, hoping you are not being judged, but concealing in your heart your inmost longings.

Couples who experience infertility often suffer in silence, not wanting to inconvenience anyone with their troubles. It’s something that can’t be seen, so it’s not noticed. Often deeply personal and hard to initiate in conversation unless they are asked. It almost becomes a taboo topic.

Now I begin to wonder if my silence in conversations only contributes to it. Perhaps acknowledging the five babies I carried, but never held, would provide an opening in the conversation. An opening for someone else to share their story, their loss and their hurt that they have held on too for so long, but dared not to tell anyone. Perhaps sharing would help another woman find healing.

Although, I always dread what seems like a million questions when we tell someone we are adopting. Perhaps sharing about our journey, even though it hasn’t been easy it is filled with so much love, would inspire someone else. Perhaps it would help them love their neighbor a little more.

As I reflect on what I am writing, I can’t promise the next time the question is asked I will have a good answer. I know for certain though, I will think twice and perhaps maybe allow my heart to help someone else’s hurt.

So for all the times I keep silent, I hope that in some small way through posts like this, the silence will be broken and perhaps someone out there will also begin to experience healing.  Perhaps someone will also feel they are no longer alone when the question arises.