Infertility after Adoption
There we were, sitting around the living room, and I was blinking hard. No matter how many times I took shaking breaths, nor how many bites on the inside of my lip, I couldn’t stop the burning ache behind my eyes.
Ah, Lord, really? Am I really going to cry about this now?
No matter what I did, there the tears were.
I was happy she was pregnant. Good grief, I was incredibly happy for them. They are part of our church and part of our lives and what brings her joy wraps me in joyfulness as well. We’re the body of Christ and it’s good.
And all of that can be true, at the very same time this bubbling sorrow in me is also true.
They’ve all been pregnant together, you know. All of them. I glanced around the room, mentally kicking myself for even taking stock, but doing it anyway. One is holding a six month old. One is cuddling a newborn. I tick them off in my mind all the way to my dear, dear friend who has a barely-swelling midsection that whispers of the little one to come.
Oh, God, this hurts.
Not because I want them to not have it but because I want to have it with them.
There is movement across the room and this tall ten-year-old, she stands up, gathers the newborn close, and carries her to me. “You want to hold the baby, right?” she says.
I look up at this beautiful girl with the jet-black hair and creamy tan skin, who calls me mom. She is leaning close and I want to shake my head no, because Oh, Jesus, I can’t handle this, but I know she’s seen my tears and I can’t let her know that I am crying for the babies I can’t have. She is the gift from the Father of Lights—and the only thing that could hurt worse than this would be for her to know what I’m crying over and think she’s not enough.
She was eight when she came and in these years since her arrival I have watched God transform her and transform me and there is no baby—from my womb or outside it—that could ever take her place. She is everything my mother heart could ever want.
Oh, Lord, what I wouldn’t give to have been able to snuggle her into me as an infant. To hold her right on my arm and teach her to laugh and sing and dance. But I get to teach her to laugh with joy, and to sing for You, and to dance for Your glory. Don’t let me forget that.
I take the newborn from her and I snuggle this little one into my arms and turn my head to keep the tears from splashing the baby’s face. My daughter prances back to her seat, happy to have shared the baby with me, and I take deep breaths again.
God is gentle, y’all. He truly is.
He washes over me with grace, again and again.
For there in the middle of that study, with everyone around me barely noticing the battle—but still loving me through it—I clung to the thing I was aching for and felt the touch of Abba God.
The One who reaches me even when I am struggling. The One who dumps a baby in my arms while I am lamenting not having one. The One who loves on me when I am a teary-eyed mess.
[pullquote]This is life, you know. I can’t have babies. And every morning I wake up and think, “Oh, maybe today my body will start working right.” [/pullquote]And every time I feel a bit of nausea, I think, “Oh, maybe I’m pregnant!” And every single time I read about God healing in the Scriptures, I think, “Maybe it’s my turn?”
I am, after all, an eternal optimist.
But it’s been seven years since there was even a miscarriage.
So those odds? Not so great.
Not that odds matter to God.
(See how that optimism works?)
The reason I share this story is simple. [pullquote position = right]Adoption, with all its beauty and harshness and agony and glory, doesn’t fix infertility.[/pullquote]
I have these marvelous, incredible, energetic two kiddos—and I love them. Oh, my, how I love them. They are startling pictures of redemption in my life. They teach me more about God than anyone or anything. They may not have come from my flesh and blood, but they definitely came from my bloodied knees and aching prayers.
And I still ache for the babies that will never be.
It’s okay that I do.
Because there, in the aching, I can know God.
And knowing God is a glorious thing.
There will be tears. There will be pregnancy announcements at church. There will be moments when I am fighting for my adopted children with everything in me and I am cursing the day they were set in anyone’s arms but mine—because I hate the foothold the enemy has cemented in their lives with all the fear and heartache and mistrust.
And there will be days of beauty too.
Of course there will be.
There always are.
Because God never leaves. And while He isn’t afraid of sorrow, and will walk with me through it, He is also no stranger to joy.
When the newborn baby went back to her mama, I looked down at my feet and saw my nine-year-old son with his hands wrapped around my ankle. I smile at him. “Do you need something?” I ask. And he grins. “Naw,” he says, “I just want to be close to you.”
Oh, Abba, how good You are.
Hi Natasha,
The pain you must be dealing with everyday must be so hard. I can only imagine how your heart breaks seeing other mothers with babies. I won’t say I understand, because I don’t. I’m not really even close to getting married let alone close to having a baby yet. I appreciate that you share your raw and honest feelings about your daily joys and struggles.
On another note, your daughter is beautiful and your son is a cutie! Your son looks like my nephews, and your daughter looks like my best friend who is also adopted.
God Bless!
Bethany
This has be crying so hard…….I know only too well exactly what this article is talking about and I have walked the walk every day for over 34 years.
So very thankful for what God has given me in our 4 adopted children, but like the article says, the pain of infertility is still there and always will be. Experiencing motherhood is not the same as experiencing having a baby. It is incredibly evident when you see so many moms who have had babies (and wanted to have a baby), but really do not enjoy motherhood. They are the ones who eagerly ship their child/children to school as young as possible, the ones for whom a baby-sitter (any baby-sitter) will do, the ones who do not take time to dress him/her/them to look their best, do not take pride in being seen out and about with them but rather leave them behind every chance they have. Having a baby and motherhood…………the two are different and always will be.
So precious and so beautiful! I will be sharing this on my Facebook page tomorrow. Also, I will be praying that one day the Lord will say YES to that desire of your heart to carry a baby in your womb. Even though it hasn’t happened and it seems impossible, He is able.
Just moments ago I was sitting and speaking to my sister about embryo adoption. At first I was optimistic and then suddenly I became sad about why it just can’t happen for us like it does for everyone else? Why can’t we just get pregnant? It seems so unfair at times but you reminded me that God is so great that there is a lesson in the midst of such a storm as this. I thank you for your transparency and being a vessel for God’s purpose in your life!
I am so thankful for your posts. I do not know anyone else in the same or even similar situation as mine, and it’s so helpful to read your posts. I do not know if what I have would be considered infertility, but that is what I call it because I am unable to carry a child to term. I have been pregnant 3 times and lost all 3 children in the second trimester, all in different situations. In 2006, I lost my first child suddenly around 19 weeks. I had to deliver the still born baby boy. In 2007, I had my second child prematurely at 23 weeks 2 days. He lived in the NICU for 38 days, but he didn’t survive. In 2014, I lost a child at about 16 weeks due to a subchorionic hematoma. I found out about the hematoma at about 6 weeks, so for 16 weeks, I lived in fear of losing the baby. I have been through so much physically, emotionally, and mentally that I know I will never try to have a biological child again.
My husband and I adopted a baby girl in 2011, and she is the light of my life. I have learned more about Gods love because of her. I have a better picture of how much God loves us, as his adopted children. I know there is no difference between the love for a biological child and the love for an adopted child. I love her with all my heart and soul. I hope she knows how much I love her and how special she is.
But I have sorrow in my heart. I feel like a piece of my heart is missing for my children that are in heaven. And I feel a sadness in my heart because I know that I will never have another biological child. Even though I am able to get pregnant, I am not emotionally or mentally able to go through it again. So day after day, I see people who are pregnant. Day after day, I see people posting their excitement on FB. I see the pregnancy announcements, the gender reveal parties, the baby bump pictures, the baby announcements, and the newborn pics, and I FEEL my heart hurting. I want to be happy for them, but all it does is make my heart feel like it is breaking all over again. I know that feeling will never go away. I feel such a deep deep sadness in my heart, that I don’t know how to find a deep joy. I am so so thankful God sent me a child to adopt, but the sorrow of losing my children and the sorrow of not being able to have a child always lingers.
So Thank you for your posts. I can relate so well to your feelings and emotions, and that helps me so much. And it helps me to see how your relationship with God grows because of your struggle with infertility and how you turn to God for strength.
Oh, Beth– what a hard road you have walked! I was just talking to a friend who has had a stillborn child, and she was sharing how there are no words to explain the feeling in the hospital room at the birth. Everything is just so opposite of what should be. I ache with you for your babies lost. <3
I pray that the Lord will meet you in the midst. Through your adopted child. Through your prayer times. Through every day life. And you will taste His deep joy even while your sorrow.
My issue is entirely different than infertility, as I am almost 70 years old. But the struggles, and sometimes the internal battles that I just cannot seem to overcome, are parallel in certain regards. I want to thank you for courageously opening up your heart and sharing this blog. Today, I found myself saying, “Jesus, I trust you for ‘x’ I trust you for ‘y’ And he calmed my spirit. Satan takes any disappointment, grief, or pain and wants to use it to drive a wedge between us in a our Abba. And it can make me feel so guilty when I don’t have a “victorious” attitude. So your sharing was an encouragement to me. God bless you. And by the way, I think your children are beautiful!!
Lorie– isn’t it neat how we can experience such different circumstances, but God can be teaching us the same lessons? Thank you for your encouragement and sweet words. May you know Him more, dear one.
Oh, sweet precious sister.
You give me hope and break my heart all at the same time.
Because I know that optimism so well– just as well as I know that pain of looking around the Bible study group and seeing all the mamas. (My group had so many blessings all at the same time- each one of them had a baby within 6 months of the others… so hard, but so beautiful).
You give me hope that I can do this, even if it never happens for me, you know? And at the same time, it hurts that I can do this even if it never happens for me. Infertility is so complicated.
I’m rambling, but I love you and I feel you and I pray for you. And for us. And for all the mamas, too.
Ally, I am so thankful for others like you to be journeying this road along side me. I know the feelings and conflicting emotions so well. Yes, lets remember the mamas, and you and I, in prayer. And may God be glorified.
<3