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Talk Back: Erasing the ‘Plan’

JET wants you to Talk Back. This is one of the reader submissions that we received and opted to publish. Want to make your voice heard? Submit your commentary, TV show recap, poem, or essay HERE.  Read all the rules so you know how it works.

As a girl growing up, I had a “plan” for my life.  I would graduate from high school and college. I would have a career. I would get married. I would have kids…or at least I thought I would.

I had never heard of infertility and was never concerned about it.  After all, it wouldn’t be difficult to get pregnant.  According to my mom, who had me at sixteen years of age, “It only takes one time. Don’t get pregnant until you’re married.” I took heed to her advice, but I never added the possibility of infertility to the equation.

I can’t tell you the countless times I’ve cried when thinking about the lost opportunity of conceiving and giving birth to a child.  As I read articles online and watch the news, my heart sinks as I hear of mothers killing their babies or throwing them in dumpsters.  I have to wonder why God won’t grant me that “one” desire.

I have quoted every scripture in my heart and aloud. I know I am supposed to trust Him, and believe me, I’ve tried very hard to hold on to faith that has literally dwindled into something smaller than a mustard seed.  I have had to remind myself of ways He has covered my family and me during some very difficult moments, as well as demonstrating His unmerited favor countless times. But I sometimes feel as if I am dying emotionally.

I am able perform daily duties and responsibilities, but occasionally, it seems as if I have spiritually and mentally “checked out.”  I tell myself over and over that this is only a test of my trust and that God will make me whole again, but doubt continues to suck its way back into every fiber of my body when the forbidden monster arrives monthly.

My husband and I have had every test possible—only to be told that the results are normal.  The diagnosis? Unexplained infertility.  Fertility treatments are out of the question; we do NOT have that kind of money. To make light of an unfortunate situation, I tell my husband that we have stubborn eggs and sperm because we are both stubborn. The joke lasts a little while, but it doesn’t lessen the pain.

A few moments ago, a dear friend talked with me about her struggle with infertility.  Although my personal issue with it sucks (and I do mean “sucks”), I was glad that I could be available for her and to cry and pray with her because this is not something that any of us feel comfortable chatting about openly.  I’m not sure what the future holds, but we are still looking for a miracle to happen with the hopes of comparing ourselves to Abraham and Sarah of the Old Testament.

In the meantime, I have erased the “plan” that I had for my life and am now looking to GOD to take over.