It is with the end of Infertility Awareness Week that I had one thing in my mind, it's time I started talking. It's time to take the journey (that for me has seemed so long) out of the confines of my art room and heart; infertility.
The funny thing is that I hear about infertility all day every day, or almost as much. I work for an amazing company called Nightlight Christian Adoptions, specifically with their Snowflakes program. Snowflakes is a program that helps families who pursued In Vitro Fertilization and subsequently ended up with more embryos than they needed, find a family to adopt, transfer and raise their biological children. It's a very unique kind of adoption. I work with the adoptive families, the ones who face infertility, heartache and years of trying for a baby that just wont show up. I read a quote once that I feel summed up the journey of many of the families I work with "I'm constantly getting denied from the worlds most in-exclusive club, parenthood!" It's my job to work with these families and help them consider the idea of receiving another family's embryos, transferring them, and giving birth to their own adopted child. What a concept, and something I will post more on later.
The funny thing (and I do consider it an interesting kind of irony) is that while working with these families in the trenches of pain and infertility, Jake and I got our own diagnosis. A diagnosis that pushed right past the traditional first steps of infertility treatment, and told us that IVF (in Vitro Fertilization) would be the only option for us to have biological children. I have complicated feelings about IVF, working with so many families that are a small part of the 600,000 embryos waiting in frozen storage in the US. Embryos that are waiting for someone to give them a shot, take some action. Embryos that eventually become stories like this one. So no, IVF for me was never an option.
The diagnosis itself was surprisingly painful for me (and the hubby too). I would almost think that I am one of the best people to be in this situation. Day in and day out I get to hear about others journey's; their pain, their efforts to combat infertility, the things that worked, how they grieved. It help does to a degree. I wish that every person facing infertility would have access to infertility veterans at their fingertips, and adoption experts in offices just two steps away. What I have found along the way is that infertility is not an issue to be fixed with a child or a treatment. It is better summed up in a fear that I will not be a parent, will not succeed in life, that we are going to miss out on something amazing, that we are failures, and worst of all that we are being told NO by God.
These are the lies that so many people miss when they hear I am struggling with infertility, immediately going on to regale whatever fix they can think of. Their sister, cousin, friend, coworker had it and they fixed it with... They want me to stop hurting and go into fix it mode (which I am just as guilty of). Believe me I know far more about random strangers sex lives than I ever cared to know about, don't tell me about you cousins.
Then the more painful, babies come in God's timing (which I also have complicated feelings about because infertility is an illness, not a matter of God withholding his blessings). Let me be clear I believe God is with me every single step of the way and He has a child or children in mind for us. He knows the beginning, middle and end of this story. In no way do I believe that He caused this issue because it wasn't time. Jake and I started trying for children because God gave us a heart to do so, and I don't believe in the kind of cruelty that would have to be possible for Him to both say Yes and No at the exact same time. I don't believe He caused this infertility any more than I believe He causes cancer in bodies (do you see people telling cancer patients that they should wait for God's timing to treat their illness... I hope not, I hope they just ask them how they can help). Yet people attach infertility to "we aren't trying enough", or "being patient enough" or "God is saying no right now" and miss the real lies we are battling.
People miss the days were I am struggling, where I am standing in worship wanting to weep while we sing that God is a good good father (meanwhile I want to punch a wall for a lot of reasons). That I have had 7 years of mother's days where a cute little girl or boy tried to give me a mothers day flower at church (because I am married I imagine) and face that little scrunched up face of confusion when I tell them no, I am not a mother. That every anniversary (more and more) I get random Facebook emails or texts of confused friends asking why we don't have children yet (some of them in the tone of, do you hate children?!). Those days cannot be fixed with a "You should really be eating organic, it helps".
So how can you help? Reading this blog maybe, learning about infertility and the difference between sympathy and empathy, and really just refraining from trying to fix our situation. We are on a journey to find our child, a journey that will not be fixed by simply attaching a child to our family and calling it good (adoption is a good deal more complicated than that). A journey that will have its ups and downs, missteps and hard nights/weeks/months. A journey that I will do my best to communicate through the tools I know best, art and writing. One that will eventually end in the answer to all those lies, and a confidence in the imperfect parents we are going to be.
And if you watched the video about the difference between sympathy... at least I am going to Disney World the day before mothers day.
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