I love disclaimers.
Mitch always teases me because I am obsessed with using them...
Disclaimer
#1: I have shared part of this thought recently in a testimony meeting, so
anyone in my ward who reads this may find it repetitive.
Disclaimer
#2: I’m not sure many people will be able to relate to this post, but I have had
this feeling pressing on my mind that I need to share this, even if it is only
meant to help one person out there somewhere.
A
few months ago I had the wonderful opportunity to travel with my mom to
Portland for a Time Out for Women conference. There were many fantastic speakers and talented artists who
performed that weekend and the spirit was felt so strong. That evening one of the singers shared
a touching experience about the struggles she used to have involving
infertility. Her heart reached out
to all those in the audience who were facing the same trial.
I
believe that sometimes we are given trials so that we can be there to comfort
others who later go through similar struggles. And I know this to be true with this individual sister
because she was there for me when I needed her.
The
other night I was feeling down and heartbroken about not being able to have
children. I was pondering if I was
missing something, if there was something God was trying to teach me that I
still hadn’t figured out yet or if there was anything I could do to make it
better, and I felt a strong impression that it was finally time. Time for me to share exactly what I am
going through and be there for somebody the way this lady was there for me.
Whoever
you are, wherever you are, if you are wrestling with this trial of infertility as
well, I want you to know that I love you and I am here for you and I know
exactly how you feel. You are not
alone.
Yes,
I know. I too have scrolled down
my Facebook newsfeed and seen four different ultrasound picture birth
announcements in the same day. I
have congratulated my pregnant friends that got married after me with their
first child… and second… and their third.
I have watched my friends who struggled with infertility along side me move
on and have children of their own.
I
know how it feels to sit at church where every moan of a baby slowly scrapes at
the inside of your heart. To miss
someone before you have even met them.
I
have been there too at the grocery store or at work when the impatient parent who is having a hard, tired day
verbally abuses their son or daughter and I am screaming on the inside thinking, “You
have NO IDEA how lucky you are to have that precious child in your life!” It has frustrated me too.
I
have felt the pain of the stinging hope that disappoints you every month when
you receive that negative test.
Every time. You always know
it will say no, but you allow that vulnerable “maybe” to take over your
emotions and shatter you. Again and again and again and again.
I’ve
felt the emotional pain that is so overwhelming that you physically just want
to throw up, desperately searching for any way to get rid of the heavy
unhappiness that weighs down on the organs inside of you. I too have soaked the blankets in tears
as I pleaded in prayer beside the foot of my bed.
I
have always had wonderful support from my amazing husband, my friends, and my family. Like this experience with the sister at
the women's conference, I have always been grateful for the comfort of those who have gone
through this trial in the past and have shared their similar stories, telling me
how “someday your turn will come.” I wanted to be one of
those people. I have tried to keep this
inside of me so that in the future I could be that mom who is there for
someone in a similar experience and share with them how someday their time will
come.
But
I feel like I need to share this now while I am still experiencing it. Because I want whoever that someone is
out there that might be going through this with me to know that
there is still so much joy, even now, while we are here. Life is so beautiful. You can feel it when you look up at the dazzling stars or hear it through the twittering birds of springtime. Even though we don’t want to admit it,
we can catch a glimpse of relief when we get to sleep in or spontaneously leave
on a weekend trip without a care.
Or the awesomeness of having guests over with kids and maybe they will
destroy your living room in that 24 hours while they stayed, but as soon as they
leave you can wipe up the mess and vacuum the spilled Cheeros and relax again
in your fresh home. We can enjoy
what we have now.
Find
a passion that distracts you from the pain, close your eyes and enjoy the peace,
smile, count your blessings out loud, write them down even, SERVE OTHERS. There is no better way to be happy than
by losing yourself in the service of others.
These
have been the hardest years of my life.
But with that, I have never been closer to my Heavenly Father.
Let
me tell you the second part of my experience at that women’s conference… When this sister was speaking and
telling me the same thing I am telling you right now, I was crying like a
baby. Like, UGLY crying, where you
let your hair drop in front of your face to keep the people next to you from
seeing how gross you look.
While
I bawled and listened to this speaker, my mom was sitting beside me and when
I looked over she was weeping too.
As far as I know, it was never hard for my parents to have
children. This moment meant so
much to me. Even though this
wasn’t her trial, her tears were for me.
She was aching because of the pain I felt.
I
can’t help but think we are given parents in this life to catch a glimpse of
the love our Heavenly Father and Mother have for each one of us.
I
don’t believe God is up in heaven, sitting on his throne looking down on us and
thinking, “Suck it up! Everyone
has been given adversity so just deal with it!”
I
think He aches for us too. I think
it brings Him sorrow when He has to watch us in pain.
I KNOW that our Savior knows our pains. He knows EXACTLY what it feels like to
be going through what you are going through. If my words don’t help bring you comfort, at least let the
Savoir into your heart and know that He can bring you peace. He can give you strength when you are
trembling and feel there is no more hope left. He loves you, your Heavenly Father loves you, and my heart
aches for you too. I pray and wish
you happiness, whoever you are out there.
If I could reach out and give you a giant bear hug I would. I would love to be that shoulder for
you to soak your tears into. Know,
please know, that you are not alone.
You are not alone.
Thank you for sharing your tender feelings. Unfortunately I can relate. After another negative test last night I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. I woke up today and let Ben comfort me. I have hope again, but it sure is unbearable at times, isn't it? I agree with you on why we go through unexplained trials. We need to be able to bare each others burdens, and sometimes that does take personal experience. I sure love you guys. God is aware of us. Keep that light shining as bright as you can! I needed your words today.
ReplyDeleteYou are my favorite. This was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing this very tender part of you with us.
ReplyDeleteHey Jesse, I figure you know we struggle with infertility also and we are here for you if you ever need to talk or want advice. I really appreciated your blatant and thoughtful post. So many people struggle with this and we find strength in numbers! Thank you for helping me feel the spirit today! Love, emily
ReplyDeleteOh Jesse....Thank you. I needed that today. Please believe that the last paragraph brought me so much hope...and many feelings to the surface. I love you Jess. I am so GRATEFUL you are my neice. You are an amazing woman. "If I could reach out and give you a giant bear hug I would. I would love to be that shoulder for you to soak your tears into. Know, please know, that you are not alone." You are in my prayers. I feel your pain sweet girl. Oh, how I love you!!!! Thanks for being in my life. Just wish we were closer!!!!
ReplyDeleteYou don't know me, but our mutual friend Mary shared this on Facebook. Even though my seven year struggle with infertility is long over-- my twins are 14 now-- your beautiful words brought me to tears. It's rough, there is no doubt about it. But we each are refined in different ways, and I can testify that experiencing it blessed me in so many ways. Your perspective is a healthy and uplifting one, despite the dark days. We really can experience joy in the midst of trial, and finding ways to help and serve others really does help. Hugs to you.... and thanks for writing about this.
ReplyDelete