What do I think God meant when He gave me infertility? (Excerpted from a post on an IVF Board)
Couples experiencing infertility often receive well-meaning but extremely insensitive “advice.” We can all list the most popular ones: “Just relax and you’ll get pregnant,” or “adopt and you’ll get pregnant,” or “things happen for a reason“, or the most painful from those who think they’ve got the goods on God’s plan, “Maybe God never meant for you to have children.” The sheer audacity of making a statement like that never fails to amaze me.
These same people would never walk up to someone seeking treatment for cancer and say, “Maybe God never meant for you to live.” However, because of infertility, the woman is supposed to get on with her life. It’s hard to understand that people can not see infertility for what it is, a disease for which treatment must be sought. What if Jonas Salk had said to the parents of polio victims, “Maybe God meant for thousands of our children to be cripples, live in an iron lung or die.” What if he’d never tried to find a cure? Who could think for one minute that that was God’s plan?
What do I think God meant when He gave me infertility?
I think he meant for my husband and I to grow closer, become stronger, love deeper. I think God meant for us to find the fortitude within ourselves to get up every time infertility knocks us down. I think God meant for our medical community to discover medicines, invent medical equipment, create procedures and protocols. I think God meant for us to find a cure for infertility.
No, God never meant for me not to have children. That’s not my destiny; that’s just a fork in the road I’m on. I’ve been placed on the road less traveled, and, like it or not, I’m a better person for it. Clearly, God meant for me to develop more compassion, deeper courage, and greater inner strength on this journey to resolution, and I haven’t let Him down.
Frankly, if the truth be known, I think God has singled me out for a special treatment. I think God meant for me to build a thirst for a child so strong and so deep that when that baby is finally placed in my arms, it will be the longest, coolest, most refreshing drink I’ve ever known.
While I would never choose infertility, I can not deny that a fertile woman could never know the joy that awaits me. Yes, one way or another, I will have a baby of my own. And the next time someone wants to offer me unsolicited advice I’ll say, “Don’t tell me what God meant when He handed me infertility. I already know.”