The Loneliness of Barrenness

I guess that’s the thing about infertility… it’s lonely, so incredibly lonely. Like an empty house waiting to be moved into and you can’t help but imagine how the piece of art you’ve been waiting to hang will look perfect above the fireplace. And month after month, as badly as you try not to get excited, only one line appears on the test. And even though you said you “knew it” you cry as you throw yet another test into the trash can. Though hours have passed, for some silly reason you dig the test out of the trash wondering if that second line miraculously appeared, because maybe your story will be like the one you read about on that random Google thread at 3 in the morning when you were looking for the answers to your barrenness.

From the ones who get pregnant but struggle to stay pregnant to the ones who have given birth but struggle to get pregnant again years later {and every story in between} it’s lonely. Deeply and profoundly lonely. 

And maybe that’s the greatest mystery to ever exist? that even when we feel lonely in our empty house surrounded by nothing but the echo of stagnant dreams we are indeed not alone… and though what we see and how we feel matters, it’s not the truth?

because at one point you thought infertility would break you and then you realize it did. It really did. it broke you of living in the shallow end, seeing Jesus as a vending machine, and thinking your way is the best way. 

And like Gethsemane, with the broken bread and the vintage wine, you’ll too find yourself begging for the journey to look different. And when it doesn’t maybe you’ll look at your scars only to be reminded of His scars and His Emmanuel-ness will become real. And profound. And you’ll exhale in relief, knowing despite the loneliness, you are indeed never alone.