I've often wondered why I always felt compelled to write, because I often felt I never had anything worth writing about. I often feel that anything I have to say has already been said. In prayer today, however, I've come to the decision that I should write on a certain topic that affects me in a very deep and painful way, both to ease my own heart and to reach out to many in my same position. Solidarity in suffering brings healing.
I have to make a confession, now: I am barren. I haven't always been that way; I have two beautiful children, who I now know are even more of a miracle than I first thought. Granted, it took me a long time to get pregnant with both of them (or, longer than I had anticipated, in any case), but it never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to have children after the first two came along. They have brought the deepest gratitude into my heart that I've ever experienced, especially in light of this apparent barrenness. I mentioned how this topic has affected me in a very deep and painful way, but I also want to point out that there is a certain blessedness that comes with it, too (more on that on another day).
My youngest daughter is now almost two and a half years old, and we have been trying to conceive for the latter year and a half of that time (with openness to conceiving before then). My youngest is now past the age her older sister was when the younger was born.
Now, I have another confession to make: I've been terrified of going to the doctor, to find out what reason there is for this "secondary infertility", as it's called. I keep waiting to hear about it being something permanent and unavoidable, and I'm very frightened of the finality of a prognosis like that.
I want to stress something here: I'm not giving up. I long to feel the stirrings of life within me again, hold a vulnerable, soft baby hand again, watch that little one sleep, perhaps do some things better this time around in my mothering (it's nice to know more about what you're doing the second or third time around). That longing spurs me on to turn this barrenness into fruitfulness. I have to be realistic about several things, though: 1) I don't know if I'm permanently infertile, temporarily infertile, or if the luck of the draw is just way, way off. Therefore, I've got to get to a doctor soon to find this out. 2) If I'm temporarily infertile, it might take more than I expect to make the infertility go away (and certain things are unacceptable as a Catholic). 3) If I'm permanently infertile, I can still turn this barrenness into fruitfulness. There are more kinds of fruitfulness in a married life than children...and I've seriously considered adoption.
There's lots more to think about, to write about, to discuss, and to discover. I'm on a journey now; perhaps "mission" is a better word. I don't know what is coming, but I want to trust God that He knows what He's doing, and there's a significant reason that this is happening. I pray He guides me to do His Will. It's time to get started. I ask that you bear with me, as I'm hoping this blog is a place to vent in a healing way, artistically if possible. :o)
I hope one day any potential readers of this blog will find my barrenness turned into fruitfulness.
May joy be in us all as we approach the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Blessed Lord. God be with you.
In Christ,
Mary
