The Eleven Letter "Four Letter Word"

Infertility. To me it has always sounded like an unreal too far away for me to comprehend word. One of those things I "understood" but never "got." A word I was sure I would never really have to deal with except for maybe in offering a tad bit of support for loved ones in their journey through it. Now it sounds like a nasty four-letter word. Infertility. It sounds so final, so uncaring, so matter of fact and judgmental.

I've never been one to like labels, especially when people tried to push them on me. I like to be who I am, not what others think of and attribute to me. This label is certainly no different. Well, actually it is different... the pain it brings cuts much deeper than any other label thrown my way. It was only in the past week or so that it really occurred to me that this label has been slapped on me, no matter what I think about it. No matter how hard I try, I just can't swallow that huge bite of life sucks!

Is it even possible to be in the denial stage and anger stage of grieving all at once? That's where I am right now, possibility or not. I've found myself angry with myself, the world, God, the people who say all the wrong things... and even though I can't accept that I could be "infertile" neither can I fully accept that I might not be. I really don't know what to think anymore.

A lovely woman who has battled this demon for far longer than my frail heart can even begin to comprehend sent me to this website, Stepping Stones, a Christian organization that offers support to couples dealing with infertility and pregnancy loss. My first thought upon looking at the home page was, "I am not infertile!" Then the realization hit me, yet again like a semi, that according to the medical world definition of the word, I am. Then once I finally and carefully swallowed a tiny crumb of that huge bite of life sucks, I decided to read a few of the articles to see if I could find any comfort there. I'd do anything for comfort lately... to get back to the place where I was truly joyful and happy and in peace about things. To find rest in the arms of the Father who promised me that rest yet seems too far away to make good on it.

I stumbled upon an article on Infertility (there's that nasty word again!) and Anger, and there I was. I can identify with almost every bit of it. I found it almost funny (but not quite) that it compares the anger of infertility to the anger Moses felt towards God before Pharaoh freed His people. It struck me in such a way because I've compared myself to Moses before... not his good attributes, mind you... but his weak ones. His doubts of self, his strained belief in how God could truly use someone like him for great things... now I find myself facing yet another comparison to the man. I am angry at God much like He was, just for different reasons. (I'm obviously not trying to free thousands of people from the hands of a horrible, evil dictator... or, at least, that's not my day job.)

“O Lord, why have you brought trouble upon this people? Is this why you sent me? Ever since I went to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has brought trouble upon this people, and you have not rescued your people at all” (Exodus 5:22-23 NIV).

So many times I've heard my soul cry out, "O Lord, why have you brought trouble upon me? Is this really why you sent me here? I KNOW you sent me here in your name, yet I've had only trouble and you have not rescued me at all." It seems like a cruel joke to put such a deep desire in a person, push them out of their comfort zone in an attempt to fulfill that desire, then leave them standing there with empty arms. Why would God do that? Just what is He trying to do? Did He really lead me here just to leave me angry and hurting, empty and broken? Because that's where I am, and it's not like it came as a big surprise to Him.

I want to move past this... I want to be happy again. I want to spit out the big bite of life sucks and find true joy and peace and dance at the feet and rest in the arms of my Father again... but right now I'm stuck. When will I be set free from it? And if I am, will I have the courage and faith to face and walk through the parted Red Sea... or will it swallow me up and all my evil ways along with it? Will I be left to wander in the desert for years and years for my lack of faith?

Ah, Moses. So doubtful, so faltering, so angry. Much like me. Though unlike me, he still did what the Lord told him to do. He faced his demons, despite himself, and the people were freed. I guess only time will tell if I will be like him there too... but as of right now, my mouth is too full of this immense chunk of life sucks to tell God I surrender. Hopefully He'll slap me on the back hard enough to shake me to my senses before it chokes all the life out of me. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is too weak to even spit... so slap, dear God, slap away.