The infertile mother

My primary intent in blogging at all was for the sole purpose of reaching out to other infertile Catholics. My life, in general, is really not all that special or interesting and I don't think anyone aside from Mr. Mike is interested in the day-to-day happenings around the house, my political beliefs, etc. However, that little issue of infertility (especially in how it relates--or how I relate it to my Catholic faith) is the one thing about my life that I have felt called to share in hopes of offering some form of camaraderie with others who live with infertility. Though I don't do it well or even often--this is why I blog.

But today, I'm going to come clean a bit. I sort of feel like I owe an explanation to those who may happen upon this blog as to why on earth I write about IF in the first place since I am, afterall, a mother.

The problem is, I feel caught up between two worlds...and I'm not entirely sure which one I identify with the most:

1) I'm a homeschooling mom to two little boys and caught up in the joys and daily grind of Catholic family life. I utter little prayers of thanksgiving and praise to God throughout the day for the gift of motherhood and adoption that made it possible. I can participate in discussions on diapering and discipline and share much in common with other moms at the playground.

2) But then there is that little annoying thing about us...the fact that we are infertile and I still cry every month AF appears. Seriously. Ten years x roughly 13 cycles per year...that's about 130 cycles I've cried my way through and I still don't know how to not drag this cross. I'm still a patient of PPVI and Dr. Hilgers and undergoing treatment in hopes of tweaking some subtle cause of our IF or at least becoming more hormonally whole. I still offer novena after novena that we can be delivered of this suffocating cross. I cringe when the conversations with other moms revolve around morning sickness, OB care, and breastfeeding. I pray for grace STILL to fight those feelings of envy at every bulging belly I see.

Shouldn't the two be mutually exclusive? Why do I still feel the pain so acutely? Why is my heart still not at rest? I admire so much women like Kristen who have been able to confidently move on and who have been healed of the pain of infertility by their adoption(s).

I feel guilty that I've not obtained that closure yet and ashamed that I'm not totally at peace with God's current plan for our family. I don't want to identify with infertility any longer. I wish the desire for more children were not so intense and I've asked God to take it away--to make me happy and my heart content with what I've already been given. I don't want to squander any joy that is available to me in raising our boys.

By dwelling on my own personal (perhaps self-centered) desires and wants (however good and natural they may be), I'm exacerbating the depression and sorrow in my heart and giving the Enemy room to flourish there. Worse yet, perhaps I am interfering with God's plan for our lives for fear of how much it might hurt in the process.

I need to bloom where I've been planted and be a better steward of the blessings God has bestowed on me. I need to "put it all out of my head" (ha!) and pray for the grace to focus on the joys of my vocation as wife and mother to the children I have been given. I need to keep perspective by giving thanks to God for all the big and little things I've been given. And I need to forgive and look beyond those little "slights" I feel I've been dealt.

But saying it and doing it are two different things, aren't they?

The thing is, I know that God put these desires in my heart for good reason. It's natural to desire children. It's natural (even if not currently in vogue for our modern society) to desire more children even if one has been already been blessed with one or two or three, or more. Take a look at Minnesota Mom's blog and read through some of her posts in the last few years and discover how even a mom of many can be tormented by the pursuit and sorrow of trying to add one more to her family. It's natural for a woman to want to be physically and biologically whole--even for it's own sake.

And therein lies the ironic, day to day struggle of the mother who hasn't yet been able to find closure on her infertility or peace with the family size she currently has. Some days it's worse than others. And I'm awfully grateful for the time that I can get through a few weeks without a debilitating blow to my infertile ego. The trigger can be anything, but a series of pregnancy announcements (such as I've just experienced) will set the beast within my heart in motion. It's difficult to quell the feelings once they've risen up, so a great deal of prayer and energy is spent talking myself down from the ledge.

I'm conflicted and unsure what God is doing with us currently. Are we to continue treatment with PPVI or should I return to work so we can try to afford to adopt again? If we do adopt again, will I ever be able to truly put to rest this desire in my heart and get over my infertility? I'm not really even sure where I fit among Catholic women dealing with infertility. Do I consider myself among those suffering with secondary infertility even if I've never been pregnant? I don't even have a label I can cling to.

Until I feel led otherwise, I'm going to continue sharing here about our IF journey because, whether I like it or not, it's where I am. I also will share more details on our journey with adoption because it's where we are at and where we've been. And despite the fact that the initial purpose of this blog was to reach out to others shouldering the cross of infertility, I will also share from time to time some of the inspirations and beauty I've found in motherhood too. I had feared writing much about my children out of respect to those whose arms are empty. However, my boys are simply too precious and integral to our journey to be overlooked.

May God look with mercy on those who suffer from primary and secondary infertility. Where God closes a womb, He opens a heart...perhaps not forever, but certainly for a purpose. So I pray for the grace to quiet the static in my heart to be able to hear and know His will and to be open to it--whatever that may be.