I participate in a Catholic bulletin board, including a thread on infertility. Since we never know when something might be lost on the internet, I wanted to save these two posts because they say a lot of what I wanted to say. The first is a response to a woman who had had IVF and was upset because we Catholic women didn't agree with her choice. She basically said, "Don't judge me because you have never been in my shoes." This was my post explaining very much how far I had traveled:
Yes, I have walked more than a mile in your shoes. For you to presume I haven't, is very telling in your reply. I have no idea whether or not you were in a state of sin in using IVF. That is not my job. (You probably weren't since you were given improper counsel, but again, not my place to know.) I am positive however, that IVF is an immoral act. Objectively speaking IVF is immoral. Opinion doesn't change fact, but intent can lessen culpability.
As my wise father says, "There are two things we must examine; wrong acts and the state of personal sin. One we must judge, the other we cannot. 'Judge not lest thee be judged' has entirely to do with a judging the state of another's soul. It has nothing to do with judging actions on the part of others and ourselves. To instruct the ignorant and admonish sinners are two of the spiritual works of mercy! I have been thankful in my life for those who instructed me in my ignorance and admonished me in my sinfulness. It has made me a better person.
I know the pain and heartache of infertility. I knew I was infertile for years and years before I married. I agonized over if I was even called to marriage. I always knew I wanted to be a mother, but wasn't so sure how I would do at the wife side of things. Would I forever resent being "only" a wife? Was I called to the religious life where I could have children in spirit, if not in flesh? Was it right to marry a man who said, now, that he was fine with never having children, but would those feelings change?
And oh the slaps in the face I received for my beliefs! At 23 and single, I was told to "have a baby or have a hysterectomy." Twenty-three, and they were already telling me to go outside my faith. Doctors who claimed to be Catholic were willing to do anything just to, "put a baby in there." The paths I went down in response were more painful than any others in my entire life. I fell into the pits of sin. I have repented of them all, but there are scars that stay.
But the light of Christ was always there. I found that the Church has always been consistent even if Her followers weren't. I also found that Church teaching had a freedom that nothing else had to offer me. Instead of being limited by Church teaching, I found I was healed. It didn't mean I could suddenly conceive, but it meant that I fully understood my role as a wife independently of my role as a mother. My infertility prepared me more fully for marriage.
My infertility reminded me that God wants husband and wife to be together even during (natural) infertility. It has helped me to be a voice for living authentic sexuality according to God's design. Infertility gave me the insight to help others keep from turning their marriage bed into a "stud farm." When you only ovulate every six months or so it is a real lesson in humility when God tells you to abstain during fertility! But he had a better plan in mind than mine. My two precious children are on HIS time, not mine. He, and only He, knows best.
As I enter the new phase of my life, being told by God that I am done expanding my (very small) family, I wait with joyful anticipation for whatever he has in store for us. So we enter into abstinence phases yet again, and I try to use that time for prayer to more fully accept God's will for my life.
And the second is an open letter asking for prayer:
I have been wanting to bring a request here for quite awhile and yet I haven't for many reasons. But because God is God, He has given me the chance now to say it.
I need prayer of a very different kind. As many of you know, I have struggled with infertility and yet was eventually able to conceive my two naturally. (Thanks prolifewife for your thoughtful defense of my place in this thread, and for all others who have treated me with compassion even though I am technically "on the other side of infertility" now.)
In fact that is why I haven't brought my prayer request to this thread. I am now really on the other side now. Through much prayer we have discerned that we are called to be done expanding our very small family. I am so sad about it, yet very peaceful in knowing that it is God's will. I haven't brought my prayer request here because I have felt so entirely humbled by knowing that I am in a place in my life that others here might envy. How do you ask for prayers for help being "done" having babies in a group of people where some have never even started?!
But the thing is, it feels a lot like I felt when I was infertile. It is a big fat 'NO' from a Father who knows so much more than I, and I want to stomp my feet and throw a temper tantrum like the tiny child I am. I even know the 'why?' of it, yet I don't want to accept it. Why couldn't He just heal my many, many physical problems instead? Why is the answer that I get no more children? Have I not done a good enough job with the ones I have? Have I not "earned" any more? Of course I know in my mind the answer to these questions, but my heart hasn't accepted it yet. I know in my mind, that some of the people who can't have babies, "deserve" them the most.
And then there are the big families. Those wonderful ones you see at Mass who are going a little crazy and their patient parents spend most of the time helping those many children become better people at the expense of hearing the gospel words themselves. And I look at them with jealousy in my heart crying, "I'm willing! Just please heal me!" And then I see the parents who have one child or five and yet don't really want to be parents so they do a slack job, and I just want to slap them silly. Again, "I'm willing! Please heal me!" And then there are those days when I do a slack job, when I fall into my own selfishness and realize that maybe I just saw them on their off day. And I am humbled yet again.
And then there is that moment once again where I realize what I am really mourning. It is that fluttering in my belly that says new life is present, that moment I felt in my dreams before I conceived, and feel again, now, in my dreams as I again mourn an empty womb. Since I know what it feels like in real life, I almost, but not quite wish I didn't know what I will be missing. But then I see the eyes of my friend who miscarried before she felt movement, and admonish myself and offer up my sadness in place of her own. I admit, the pain to never feel the flutter, is more acute. There is nothing that aches more.
Infertility has so many aspects to it that there are too many to name. I look into the eyes of my son who looks exactly like me and the eyes of my daughter who looks nothing like me and wonder, "Would I love them less if I suddenly found out they weren't really 'mine'?" No I couldn't. They are on loan from God for no matter how long I have them with me. Whether they came from my body or someone else's, I have the privilege of being their mother. I carried them, but they look different enough that they might as well be from someone else.
And finally I remember authentic Catholic teaching that we are ALL called to motherhood and fatherhood. The nuptial meaning of the body unites us as children of God and parents to all other children. I remember I need to continue in the act of procreation even when it doesn't reproduce. I still need to participate in the race to the end even when I am tired. I still need to leave the door open to God in case his answer wasn't just a 'no,' and was instead a 'not now.'
Please pray for me for an acceptance of God's will, not just in my mind, but in my heart as well. And please, especially for those who struggle with infertility more than I, please forgive me for asking in the first place. As I mourn the end, I will offer up all I can for the many couples who have never been able to start.
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