Infertility linkup: Blogs, books, podcasts, and more

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WARNING: The following blogs may contain some crass language/content.

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Listen up: Let’s make the world less crappy for those struggling to have a baby

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The world is a lonely place for couples having trouble getting pregnant. It’s hard to feel like you fit into a society where everyone and their giraffe is knocked up, posting pics of their bumps like they’re the universal outfit of the day.

Instead of further isolating those who are struggling to grow their families, you can support them by following this advice: shut yo mouth and open yo ears.

That’s my snappy adaption of the theme for this year’s National Infertility Awareness Week, an initiative to inform the public about the 1 in 8 couples of childbearing age affected by the disease of infertility. RESOLVE, the organization sponsoring this movement, is throwing back to the old school catchphrase – “Listen Up!” – to help people understand the infertility community’s needs and promote access to a wide variety of family-building options.

During the long and grueling process it took to expand my family, I appreciated those who asked me thoughtful questions and stuck around as I spilled my guts about my screwy lady parts. On the flip side, those who didn’t give me the time of day to listen to my frustrations made my misery and feelings of being an outcast that much worse.

To educate others how they can “listen up,” I wanted to call out specific groups of people who – armed with knowledge and a better grasp on tactfulness – can support someone facing the devastation of infertility in important and distinct ways. And, because this topic is near and dear to me, I’ma preach. So all who have ears, let ’em hear:

Listen up, preggo ladies: The child you’re carrying is a blessing, and a miracle. All babies are, really. While you should celebrate this little life, remember there are many people out there (15 percent of U.S. couples, according to the CDC) who are still waiting on their miracle. If you know a loved one is struggling in this way, don’t dump salt on her wound by talking excessively about your pregnancy. Focus your conversations around non-baby-related subjects you both enjoy, and extend her the courtesy of an invitation to your shower, as well as the grace to bow out of it. And, for the love of Mark Zuckerberg, don’t post your announcement on social media until you’ve shared it with your loved one privately ahead of time.

Listen up, OB/GYNs: As hard as your job is, reaching up uteruses all day long, consider how degrading and defeating it is for a woman who can’t get pregnant to visit your office. She first must wait interminably long in a room surrounded by ballooning bellies, submit to the stirrups for various uncomfortable exams, and talk about her sex life plus other embarrassing topics with a physician who might not even know how to help. Please treat your patients with respect. Don’t downplay the problem – acting as though her irregular periods or ovarian cysts are run-of-the-mill female troubles rather than sources of extreme anguish. And, for Hippocrates’s sake, switch out the clocks in your rooms to ones that don’t tick so damn loud.

Listen up, fertility specialists: Don’t take this personally, but no one wants to see you. Couples who are facing the crushing disappointment of not being able to conceive naturally must reach a level of desperation to seek your help. Don’t make this humiliation worse by either speaking in a condescending tone or behaving in a dismissive manner. One in eight couples are humans – not just a number that could boost or tank your success rates. Show some compassion as you communicate, and treat your patients’ minds and spirits as well as their bodies by supplying resources and contact info for local support groups, psychiatrists, and counselors.

Listen up, alternative therapy providers: You guys are weird. You should probably own up to that. While couples who pursue your line of treatment would do almost anything to have a baby, they don’t need you pushing various get-fertile-fast items that would further bust their budgets or making unfounded promises that could further dash their dreams. Be honest about the strengths and limitations of your services, and don’t look shocked if a client asks you to turn off your hippie background music.

Listen up, adoption caseworkers: While you get the joy of helping bring parents and children together through the beautiful and redemptive process of adoption, you also have the task of drawing out the pain that might have motivated both the adoptive and birthparent(s) to seek this option. Please do NOT tell your prospective parents they must “get over” the disappointment of infertility before they can adopt – as if that grief is different than any other loss that takes time to process and perhaps continues to hurt even after resolution has been reached. You must know that all the adoption paperwork is exhausting, and the undertaking of preparing for a home study feels like a Fixer Upper reno, minus the assistance from Chip and Joanna. So handle your clients with care, and give them continuous status reports as they wait on pins and needles for the call that will change their lives.

Listen up, pastors: If you’ve already preached on the topic of barrenness in the Bible, well done! (There are at least six women in Scripture who struggled getting pregnant – including three of the founding mothers of Israel – so the odds are in your favor here.) You play a critical role in comforting those who have to muster the courage every Sunday to gather in a place dominated by families with children. Lift up the “least of these” in your congregation by researching good books and blogs that you could recommend, and support the efforts of those who facilitate infertility support groups in your community. On Mother’s Day, consider marking the occasion in less ostentatious ways than doing standing ovations or flower presentations, and/or mention the need to appreciate ALL the important women in our lives. And lastly, I beseech you, quit cracking procreation jokes from the pulpit. Not everyone in your church is “good at making babies,” and saying so will ostracize those who might already feel like church is a place where they don’t belong.

In whatever context you encounter those who are facing infertility, the way you handle your interactions can either uplift them or drag them down. We can make the world more compassionate through the simple gesture of listening to those who are hurting.

And all God’s people who are tired of hearing “just relax and you’ll get pregnant” said: “Amen.”

20 questions to ask a friend facing infertility

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Have you ever asked a dumb question? If you answered no, congratulations! You are the smartest person ever – and a big, fat liar.

Posing ignorant inquiries isn’t a practice limited to those whose names end in Kardashian. We all have asked someone a question that was irrational, tactless, ill-advised, or utterly asinine. Circumstances that involve sadness and grief especially trip us up, as we fumble around with insufficient expressions of sympathy and summon common platitudes, meaning well to provide the other person comfort, but perhaps more earnestly trying our darndest to ease our own discomfort.

The situation of a loved one experiencing difficulty getting pregnant provides ample opportunity for insensitive questions and overall awkward conversations. Example: responding to your mom’s courteous inquiry if you’ve tried standing on your head after intercourse.

Aside from the embarrassment factor, part of what makes dialogue with a friend facing infertility so challenging is the helplessness of it all; neither you nor she can ultimately change the situation. And, in your attempt to find ways you could help, you run the risk of sounding trite, nosy, or rude.

Talking with your friend who is longing to be a mother is unquestionably complicated, but it is not futile. When I was despairing over my failure to conceive month after month, one of the things I appreciated most about friends who tried to support me was their willingness to ask me questions and their patience listening to me vent. Having the guts to go deep into your friend’s personal struggles and the tolerance to hear her gripe about her jacked-up ovaries? That’s love.

For this year’s National Infertility Awareness Week – an initiative aiming to educate the public about the disease of infertility and the 1 in 8 couples of reproductive age who are affected by it – the sponsoring organization, RESOLVE, is urging people to #StartAsking how they can support the infertility community and promote better, more affordable access to treatment and various family-building options. I thought I’d chip in to this worthwhile effort and chime in a few questions of my own – 20, plus a few extra – to provide a handy list for those who want to show interest in the infertility issues their loved one is experiencing but don’t know what to ask.

This isn’t intended to be a comprehensive list, as if you should ask all of these questions at once. No need to go all Jack Bauer Interrogation Mode on her. These are simply a mix of open-ended, insight-seeking, emotion-emancipating questions that can help her process her grief, increase your understanding of her situation, and strengthen your relationship.

Before you launch into any query, be sure to affirm your affection:

I love you. I’m so sorry you’re hurting right now. I’d like to help, but I’m not sure what the best way is to do that. Know that I’m here for you, willing to listen, if or when you want to talk about it.

This sets the tone for grace-extending dialogue, demonstrating your heart to support her and giving her space to share hers when she’s ready.

First, a few questions to avoid like [name your food allergy/intolerance.]

1) So, how’s the “not having a baby” thing going?
Seriously?

2) Whose fault is it?
Totes innaprops. Infertility is a medical condition, not a moral consequence, and asking this type of question heaps shame upon your friend who is likely already burdened by guilt. Plus, your friend’s and/or her spouse’s specific diagnosis is private information that only she can decide whether or not to disclose.

3) How did the appointment go?
If your friend has just been disappointed by a discouraging prognosis or yet another negative pregnancy test, she may not be eager to report back and disappoint you, too. Instead of pressuring her to respond, shoot her a text/email/snapchat(?) saying you’re thinking about her and then wait until she wants to talk about it.

4) Have you tried _____?
It’s 2016, people. If your friend wants to learn more about various supposed fertility-enhancing techniques, she can Google it.

5) Why don’t you just adopt?
The ultimate cringeworthy inquiry. Because a) “why” puts her on the defensive, b) she may not be prepared to think about adoption yet, and c) there is no “just” about adoption; it takes time and demands significant financial and emotional investment. As an adoptive mother, I can absolutely attest that adoption is a tremendous blessing, but it is also a lot of work and a major decision that cannot be rushed.

Put your good intentions to better use than displaying your own ignorance by floating a few of these kinder, more gently phrased questions.

1) How are you doing?
Open the door to deeper conversation.

2) Do you want to talk about it?
Extend the invitation to talk while giving her an out.

3) What options are you considering?
Offer her the opportunity to explain the paths she’s pondering and to weigh her inclinations and reservations about them. WITHHOLD JUDGMENT.

4) Can you tell me more about _____? (fertility test/treatment, adoption, etc.)
Seek information and find a friend grateful for your interest.

5) How are you feeling about _____? (fertility test/treatment, adoption, etc.)
Let her let it all out.

6) How are you feeling physically?
Reproductive problems can be painful, and fertility treatments can take a huge toll on a person’s body. Recognize the physical ramifications of what she’s going through and allow her to discuss her health if she wants.

7) How is your spouse doing?
Infertility can rock a marriage. Show concern for her spouse and the well-being of their relationship.

8) What is helping you get through this difficult time?
Find out how she is coping and learn if/how you can aid those efforts.

9) What is adding to your hurt at this time?
Discover her triggers.

10) Who else have you talked to about this issue?
To respect her privacy and deter gossip.

11) Would you consider participating in a support group?
Suggest – but don’t push – the thought of finding a community of women who understand what she’s going through.

12) Are you open to hearing from others who’ve experienced similar issues?
Personal referrals and book or blog recommendations are great, but be careful how you pitch them. Hearing about “success” stories might piss her off more than inspire her, depending on her feelings about prolonging hope.

13) How do you like to be encouraged?
You may be your own Master Self-Esteem Builder, but you can’t assume that role for your friend. Acknowledge that she is the authority on what she needs and take note of her preferences.

14) What do you like to eat [or drink]?
Provide a little consumable consolation.

15) Do you want to build a snowman?
Sorry, couldn’t resist. For reals, though, see if she wants to catch a movie, get a pedicure, go for a hike, or join you in some other fun, stress-relieving activity.

16) How do you like to express your creativity?
The woman who yearns to nurture life within her can nurture life through her by engaging in creative endeavors such as cooking, blogging, gardening, DIYing, etc. Cheer her on in those activities that bring her joy and enrich the world around her.

17) How can I show you I value our friendship?
#somuchsap, yet it reaffirms your care for her and her importance to you.

18) Where are you at with God?
Yeah, I know. This is the one that’ll get me – er, you – into trouble. Here are the caveats: a) if you are close friends, and b) if the conversation is private and already at a deep level, and c) if she is even open to talking about spiritual issues at all, then go ahead and go there. Stripped of Christian clichés, conveyed from a place of grace, this question gives her a chance to process her feelings toward the most important Person in her life and possibly give you a chance to reassure her of the truth of His love.

19) How is [any other aspect of her life] going?
Your friend isn’t defined by her infertility; it is a major part of her life right now, but it isn’t WHO she is. By bringing up other areas of interest, you can validate her worth as a person – not just a person who wants to but can’t yet be a mom – and emphasize the importance of her contributions in other meaningful pursuits.

20) Can I pray for you? [or, better yet] How can I pray for you?
Hands-down, the best question to ask and the best action to take. As much as you love your friend, God loves her infinitely more. And whereas you cannot offer her the one thing she so desperately desires, the Creator of all life can – in His timing, according to His plan. So, once you are done asking her how you can help, ask Him to give her the blessing of a child and grant her strength to wait in the meantime.

Resources:
RESOLVE Infertility Etiquette page
RESOLVE Family and Friends: How They Can Help fact sheet
The Carry Camp For Family and Friends page
Mayo Clinic “Social support: Tap this tool to beat stress” article

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No more miracles

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Warning: This post will rock you. Not in a way that will astound you with my wit or eloquence. If anything, you’ll think less of me and question my sense of rationality and perhaps even my faith. So be it.

What I mean is that the following post is about as raw as you can get. For some reason, I feel compelled to write my feelings – unprocessed, unfiltered, full of shame, glowing with transparency. It is not intended to be a woe-is-me post, or a self-glorifying look-at-how-real-I’m-being post. It is simply a description of my emotions at present, and if you’re a woman who is or desires to be a mother, you may very well feel these emotions as you read my honest, admittedly melodramatic words. Expect tears and proceed with caution.

You see, I want another baby. I have two wonderful, dynamic children, and I want a third. I have more love to give, a not-quite-depleted supply of energy, and a resolute desire to mother another child. I don’t feel done yet.

My exceedingly patient and loving husband agreed to pursue an addition to the family despite his feelings of being done already. We decided to attempt the “easiest” route and try for one year to conceive again. We tried, and we failed. Again.

I went into it eyes wide open. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew the potential for letdown, but figured it was worth it in case God wanted to grant us another miracle. Probable, no; possible, yes. Damn that glimmer of possibility and the inevitable disappointment it brings.

I took my own advice I tell others who are undergoing fertility treatments or otherwise struggling to get pregnant and took it one day at a time, one two-week wait at a time, one cycle at a time. That strategy backfired. Last December – the 12th and final month of trying – the moment I went to the bathroom and discovered I wasn’t pregnant, the weight of the emotions I’d been shoring up slammed into me like a semi-truck and knocked me out of my I’ve-got-this-and-can-totally-keep-it-together façade. And, since it was during the holidays and we were staying with family, I couldn’t allow myself to fully process the depth of my pent-up grief.

So that’s what I’m doing now. And man, does it suck.

I cry at odd moments of the day. I try to avoid going by the guestroom, with its empty crib and closet full of baby clothes and toys that will all need to be disposed of in one way or another. I stare off into space as my kids repeat random questions, which they would do anyways regardless of my melancholy state, but I should nonetheless pay attention to them since one out of every 25 inquiries might actually merit an answer.

I’m also avoiding people, skipping church events and meet-ups with friends. I haven’t felt up to putting on a happy face, acting like I’m OK, like my life hasn’t just hit a major redirection. How could I explain to anyone what I’m feeling?

How could I explain that I’m so grateful for my two boys – both miracles in their own right – and yet feel so hurt that I won’t receive another? I am not despairing, like I was before I became a mother, but I am grieving. Whereas before, although my plans for having child #1 and child #2 didn’t pan out the way I’d expected, in time, I could see that God had something better planned. This time, I don’t see that better thing that God has planned since there will be no child #3. Before, although I felt so beaten down that I should give up the dream of having a child, I didn’t. This time, I have to.

I feel defeated. Bereft. Overwhelmed with that oh-so-familiar, didn’t-realize-I-still-had-it kind of ache. What do I do with this persistent urge to mother a child from infancy? I love my kids. I love other people’s kids. It’s part of who I am – a creative nurturer.

If you tell me to get another pet, I’ll punch you in the face. A pet is great, but it is not a replacement for a child. Neither is a career, hobby, or even a ministry. A loss of one kind in your life cannot be replaced by a gain in another area of your life.

Also, please don’t ask, “Why don’t you just adopt again?” The answer is: “It’s complicated,” and that’s all I can say about that in a blog post. (As an important side note, this is not a question I recommend posing to someone going through primary infertility for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is it implies that adoption is easy, which IT IS NOT. Find more explanation on this note here.)

And this is going to sound bad, but don’t talk to me about how my contentment should be in Christ alone. I already know that and believe it. I realized after an awful period of introspection that having kids wasn’t going to complete me, that motherhood wasn’t the be-all, end-all. Sure, it’s a huge blessing, and rewarding, as well as, at times, the most frustrating thing in the world, but it’s not the best thing in the world – that’s reserved for knowing and walking with Jesus. So I know this to be true, but it doesn’t invalidate the loss of not being able to fulfill this God-given desire.

I feel angry. Pissed, to put it mildly. Mad that my pristine vision of a beautiful family of five is ruined, irreparable. I know God loves me; He has a purpose for this plan; He is good and sovereign and just. But I’ve never understood and doubtfully never will why He sometimes does not enable someone to fulfill a strong, noble desire He gave them in the first place. It seems cruel.

Then there’s the guilt. Why am I questioning God’s intentions, when He has already given me two incredible, unexpected gifts, and allowed me to experience the joys of both adoption and pregnancy? Shouldn’t I simply be grateful for my two kids instead of blessing-grubbing? I tell other women facing secondary infertility they shouldn’t feel guilty, but it’s hard not to succumb to this temptation, especially when you are also working through some major conviction (hello, right here, bigtime). It seems shameful to admit my distress over this intangible loss when others have endured so much more significant heartache in this life. I accuse myself: “You shouldn’t feel that sad about this. Why don’t you just count your blessings, let go and let God, insert another Christianese comment, and get over it.”

I feel confused. What do I do now? How do I reconcile this unyielding desire and view of my family as unfinished with the apparent “no” God has decreed in reply to my prayers? And why the heck am I facilitating a support group for women dealing with infertility and infant loss when I’m acting thoroughly whiny, ungracious, ill-tempered, and lacking in faith and self-control – basically how NOT to respond to this type of trial? Take that as evidence that God appreciates irony.

These questions are all rhetorical. I’m not writing this post to solicit answers to my plight, or invoke clichéd expressions of sympathy, or inspire fabricated reasons for why God allows pain in our lives. Believe it or not, I decided to write this post to impart hope. I’m refuting the lie that I’m the only woman on Earth saddened at the prospect of not having any more kids and affirming a vital lesson I have learned am learning through this process:

You can be disappointed about something that went wrong in your life and still love Jesus. You can trust in His goodness and believe in His promises and still be hurt by His plans. It’s called a paradox. Look it up. The Bible is loaded with ’em.

It’s not that this place of disappointment is somewhere you should linger. I know I’d rather not stick around here. It’s better to fully embrace God’s sovereignty and acknowledge the kindness of His will than to wallow in pity and all things self.

But one of the most unfathomable parts about this relationship we have with our Creator is that even when we’re failing at handling our hardships, He still cares and carries us through them. His faithfulness is not predicated upon my faith or lack thereof.

Defining a “right” way to grieve is impossible, and grieving this kind of a loss – wherein no one has died, thank goodness – but you nonetheless feel empty, drained, like someone stole something from you, something you never had – is difficult to articulate in a way that others can understand. Even more complex is the process of feeling forsaken by God, but believing He loves you beyond comprehension. Jesus knows; He experienced it.

So, without seeing a resolution to my present disappointment, I will cry out to my good, good Father, and be thankful for His grace, and be sad for my loss. For when I am weak, then He is strong.

You are not alone

 

I sat, staring at the backyard.

My eyes perceived the scenery before me – the pale sky, the slender birch trees, the too tall grass – as my mind envisioned children laughing, rolling down the hill, blowing puffs of dandelions, and running to me for a kiss after falling down and scraping a knee.

I cried my heart out.

My yard was empty. I didn’t have any kids; didn’t have any co-workers, since I was working from home; didn’t have any friends, since my husband, Colin, and I had recently moved to the area. He was at work, and I was by myself. I sat alone in our empty house, gazing out the back window like a mental hospital patient, thinking about how I was never going to be a mom.

Later, I learned that the neighbors whose property bordered the back of ours – the ones who owned the fence into which my eyes bored holes during my patio reverie – were also experiencing difficulties trying to conceive. The wife had been diagnosed with endometriosis, just as I had. The two of them had undergone a few unsuccessful rounds of IVF and were prepping for another attempt at the procedure, just as we were.

Around that same time, we joined a church small group, where we met another couple who had fertility challenges and were beginning the adoption process, just like we were.

Then I met another woman who had struggled with infertility for years until finally conceiving through IVF, and now wanted to help other women facing similar issues by starting a support group, just like I did.

When we launched that support group, I met woman after woman after woman who knew The Ache – who desperately wanted a child but couldn’t get pregnant, and was wrestling with frustration, disappointment, worry, and anguish, just like I was.

Through these experiences, I learned that I was not the only one grieving the loss of the ability to bear children; I was not the only one living life with this unfulfilled desire to be a mother.

And once this desire eventually was fulfilled, I discovered that having children wasn’t the only redeeming result of this difficult season. Through infertility, I gained numerous new friendships and deeper, more honest relationships that I never would have experienced if I’d gotten pregnant that first month of trying.

I treasure those friendships now, and certainly appreciated them back then. Because when you’re going through infertility, you need a friend who understands the vicious cycle of hope lifting off at Day 1 and crashing down around Day 28, accompanied by an unseemly obsession with charting various bodily functions.

You need a friend with whom you can swap crazy Clomid stories, or laugh about the embarrassing thing you and/or your husband had to do at the doctor’s office, or joke about how you had to hide all your weapons before the adoption social worker paid a visit.

You need a friend who will stay with you for several hours after a medical procedure, when you are too weak and dizzy to do anything but lie down and talk about your favorite cooking shows.

You need a friend who will encourage you to give purpose to your pain by blogging about your experiences so others know they’re not the only ones struggling with this issue.

You need a friend who will buy your old Barbie collection to help fund your IVF cycle, save the dolls, and then re-gift them to you to pass down to your daughter, as one of my high school youth group pals did to support that friend who inspired me to blog.

Jessica bought a Barbie collection from Heather to help fund her IVF cycle, then saved the dolls to return to her Barbie sister in hopes of her one day having a little girl. Heather’s daughter, Emily, now enjoys playing with her mom’s collection.

Despite your friends doing all these wonderful, amazing things to uphold you, there will still be times when they are unavailable. Your calls will be dismissed; your texts will go unanswered.

You need a Friend who will truly always be there, who is better than all the friends Facebook has to offer, who is better than all the babies you could ever wish to mother.

You need Jesus. He will never leave you, or forsake you. He will carry your burdens, even when you think you don’t care anymore, and revive your hope, even when you feel like giving up.

And, knowing that you have the ultimate friend in Jesus, you can be a friend for Jesus. By that, I mean you can share the love and comfort of Christ with those who are hurting, even when you are hurting. He’ll give you the grace and strength to do it.

You might just be the friend someone needs to tell her she is not alone, either.

In the world we live in today, it shouldn’t be hard to find someone who is going through a difficult time and could use some encouragement. Look no farther than across the fence in your own backyard.

Six ways to help a friend face the baby-making blues

Super Bowl 2014. The Seattle Seahawks destroyed Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos in the franchise’s first-ever victory at the NFL’s pinnacle event. As QB Russell Wilson – aka my husband, Colin’s, man crush – raised the Vince Lombardi trophy in triumph, those few handful of Seahawks fans who had cheered for the team throughout its long history of total suckage experienced long-awaited redemption. Colin declared he could die a happy man.

Later that month, we celebrated our 10-year anniversary. Talk about anticlimactic.

Super Bowl 2015. The Seahawks had overcome many obstacles to make it back, and were battling it out with the Boston Patriots in an evenly matched, fairly called game. Down four points, with under a minute left in the fourth quarter, the Hawks were at the Patriots’ 1-yard line and within arm’s reach of a repeat. Then the unthinkable happened. Instead of giving the ball to Marshawn Lynch to punch it in the end zone, like anyone who knows a lick about football would choose to do, the Seattle coaches called a risky pass that was intercepted, securing the win for the Patriots.

Once the initial shock wore off, Colin wept bitterly, on the inside. I didn’t know what to say or do to comfort him, so I simply whispered, “Sorry hon,” patted him on the back, and left him alone to work through his grief.

Track with me here in this terrible transition from talking about how to console loved ones dealing with sports-induced depression to talking about how to encourage loved ones coping with infertility.

Watching a friend or family member undergo the physical, emotional, and financial hardships caused by infertility can make you feel helpless. If you’re already a mother, you long for your loved one to share the exasperating yet joy-filled experience of having children. But how can you support her, knowing there’s a heckuva lot you shouldn’t say, and besides taking it to the Lord in prayer, there’s nothing you can do to help fulfill her desire to become a mom?

While you can’t erase your friend’s pain, you can seek to understand specific ways to express your care and concern. Realize, though, that even if you say the “right things” and treat her with utmost sensitivity, she might still be sad and discouraged and downright ornery. She’ll also be grateful for your love and companionship as she traverses her difficult path to parenthood. 

Colin urged me to use a photo of hugging cats for this post, so here’s what I found. Unfortunately, I didn’t come across any great pics of hugging cats wearing Seahawks jerseys.

1) Weep with those who weep
Words often fall short when someone is grieving, but a shoulder to cry on is almost always welcome. When your friend receives news of yet another negative pregnancy test, or an adoption opportunity falls through, tell her you’re sorry, you love her, and that you’ll be there for her if/when she wants to talk about it.

2) Show interest (to her comfort level)
If your friend says she’s open to sharing her infertility issues with you, go ahead and ask her a broad, open-ended question such as “What options are you considering?” Whether she’s pursuing fertility treatments or adoption or taking a break from it all, demonstrate your concern about what she’s experiencing and feeling. When you know she has a doctor’s appointment or a meeting with a social worker coming up, send her a text or email ahead of time and let her know you’re thinking about her. Allow her to decide when/if to tell you how it went.

3) Exercise extra grace on holidays
Mother’s Day is pure hell for a woman having trouble having kids. As well, the vast number of holidays that revolve around giving gifts to children or acknowledging children as gifts can add to the ache. Even birthdays can be painful reminders of that damn ticking clock. Recognize that your friend may be hurting during these celebrations and do something to make her feel special – write her a note, bring her lunch, or take her out for a mani/pedi date.

4) Encourage her to join a support group
Remember the days when you were so pissed at your parents that you ran to your room, slammed the door shut, and shouted with all the self-righteousness of a 15-year-old, “You just don’t understand me!”? A woman who is struggling with infertility feels like no one gets what she’s going through – lonely, isolated, an outcast from our baby bump-obsessed culture. Your friend can combat these lies and experience healing through community by attending a support group for those facing childbearing challenges.

This is, of course, a shameless plug for the ministry I’m facilitating, Graceful Wait, but there are plenty of other great resources out there for finding support groups, either online or otherwise (see list at the end of this post).

5) Tell her you’re praying for her … and actually do it
Ain’t no baby ever came into this world who didn’t have the Lord Almighty breathe life into his or her tiny little body. Commit yourself to pray for your friend, even if she’s given up on it. Pray that she will receive the child she so longs for, that she will have wisdom to know how to walk toward that end result, and that she will grow in faith and dependence on Christ throughout the whole process.

6) Rejoice with those who rejoice
The day we left town to pick up my oldest son, Calvin, from the hospital – less than 24 hours after we got the call from our social worker that we were going to be his parents – we had nothing at our house to prepare for an infant but an empty room and a couple of cute frog paintings I’d bought at a yard sale for my “someday” baby’s room. We returned a day and a half later to find that empty room converted to a fully fledged, well-stocked nursery, complete with crib, changing table, bouncy seat, diapers and dozens of other essentials, toys, wall décor, and a neat little row of onesies hanging in the closet.

Our church small group had come over while we were gone and pulled a surprise home makeover. The friends who had walked with us through months of terrible disappointment, including an epic fail of an IVF cycle, had jumped at the opportunity to minister to us in our time of celebration.

To this day, it is one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever done for me (another being Calvin’s birthmother choosing us to be his parents), and I will never forget the amazement I felt when I walked into that room. Even Colin shed a few tears, on the outside.

Our friends put up signs around the nursery for Calvin’s homecoming. Best use of clip art ever.

“Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5b) Stay up with your friend now, during this long night of waiting, and you’ll get to rejoice with her that day she finally gets to hold her child in her arms. In the meantime, you’ll watch together how the Creator redeems broken expectation and transforms it into delayed – yet very much worthwhile – gratification.

Support group resources
RESOLVE support group list
Bethany Christian Services infertility and pregnancy loss forum
Dancing Upon Barren Land online support group
The Carry Camp weekend retreat
Hannah’s Prayer community forums

10 things I hate about what people say when you’re going through infertility

I once called my brother the root of all evil. He must’ve done something to deserve it – like steal one of My Little Ponies or disregard my stage directions during one of the family skits I wrote, directed, and starred in. Regardless of his actions, it was a cruel thing to say, and I immediately regretted it as I saw how I’d wounded his sweet (albeit mischievous) little 6-year-old heart.

We all know words can hurt. We also know that we can be stupid at times, saying things we don’t mean out of anger or putting our foots in our mouths. It happens. We’re human.

Words can especially bring pain to someone who is grieving a loss, as when someone faces the possibility of not being able to get pregnant and/or carry a child. Any and every little thing can set them off, like that go-to conversation starter: “Do you have any kids?”; or the more invasive: “When are you going to start a family?” Innocent, everyday questions can shoot like stinging arrows, reminding you that your arms are empty and your heart is aching.

During my time in that miserable season I eventually learned I needed to be more thick-skinned and recognize that the vast majority of people weren’t meaning to shiv me in the ribs with their well-meaning yet insensitive comments. I also discovered it helped to tell others what NOT to say so I wouldn’t want to punch them in the face or de-friend them on Facebook.

So I thought it might be fun to put much of my social network on a guilt trip and share some statements and questions that are just not helpful to those who are dealing with infertility. Seriously, don’t feel too bad if you’ve said one or more of these things – remember, we all say stupid stuff, and there’s grace to go around, yada yada. Just take a glance through these 10 items and look forward to my next post on things you can say and do to encourage your loved ones who are trying to grow their families.

1) “You just need to relax.”
… or go on a vacation, get a massage, reduce stress, etc. This type of advice has the opposite effect and creates more stress, making your friend feel like she’s doing something wrong when there’s likely a physical problem – not emotional or psychological – preventing pregnancy. Relaxing never cured anyone of diabetes; neither can it cure a diagnosable medical problem like infertility.

2) “God has a purpose for your pain.”
This statement is true, but to your friend, who is dying to know when or if she will be a mother, it often comes across as a trite attempt to dismiss her sorrow. The pain of infertility is real and must be acknowledged and dealt with in healthy ways. Also, if your friend is a believer, she probably already knows God has a divine purpose for her struggles, and His timing is perfect, and His ways are higher than hers, but that might not be the message she needs to hear from you when she’s smack dab in the middle of that struggle.

3) Complain about pregnancy OR glorify pregnancy – “OMG I can’t stop eating, how am I gonna lose all this baby weight?” or “Feeling these little baby butterflies is uh-mazing #blessedtobeknockedup”

4) “Have you tried _______?”
… acupuncture, massage, meditation, Feng Shui, more exercise, less exercise, gluten-free diet, etc. Chances are, your friend knows how to use the Internet and thus has done a thorough job of researching the many methods people experiment with to get pregnant and doesn’t want or need your suggestions.

5) “Have you tried _______?”
[insert unsolicited, wildly inappropriate recommendations for sexual positions, techniques, or activities proposed by total strangers, or worse, your mom or MIL.]

6) Complain about your kids – “Are you sure you want kids? You can have mine.”
Yes, I’m sure I want kids. No, I don’t want yours; they’re brats, and you’re just as bad for saying that to brush off my disappointments.

7) Emphasize the perks of childlessness – “Enjoy getting to sleep in while you can.”

8) Act like you know what they’re going through when really you’ve got no clue – “I can totally relate to you because of my journey through _______.”
Grief is universal, but experienced in different ways by people in different situations. It’s better to admit that you can’t completely understand your friend’s anguish and that you’re saddened to see her hurting than to compare losses and thus downplay her unique struggles.

9) Quote Scripture out of context – “No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” (Psalm 84:11b)
“All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16-17). Note this verse doesn’t say all Scripture is profitable for comforting hurting people through improper citations that are ill-timed and insensitive under the given circumstances. By all means, go to the Word for encouraging promises and stories of God’s faithfulness; just be careful determining which verses to highlight and when to share them.

10) “Why don’t you just adopt?” or “Just adopt; then you’ll get pregnant.”
As wonderful as adoption is (and I’m a huge advocate), your friend might not yet be ready to process all the emotions and practical issues involved with making the decision to pursue that option. This question also implies a load of negative and/or incorrect presumptions, including the likelihood that your friend has given up trying for a biological child, that adopting a child is inferior to conceiving a child, and that adoption is an easy alternative to biological baby-making. Furthermore, studies show adopting a child does not affect the rate for achieving pregnancy. Adoption isn’t a means to an end of getting pregnant; it’s another way to add a child to your family and a route a couple should pursue only when they’re ready.

See more ideas at RESOLVE’s Infertility Etiquette page and The Carry Camp.