Infertility Defines Me

A lot of people are quick to say that infertility doesn't define them. Other people say similar things about cancer or disabilities or any assortment of things. It comes from a place of empowerment... a desire not to be seen as weak due to a weakness or sick due to a sickness. A desire to be seen as an entire person, rather than the sum total of our parts. We often debate within the infertility community if we should call ourselves "infertile" or not. We discuss whether the inability to get pregnant within a year should become a noun we use to describe ourselves.

I get all of that, but I've always viewed infertility a little differently. I try not to offend anyone, but I use the term "infertile" with abandon. For one, it just simplifies life. The infertility community is rampant with acronyms. You don't have to hang out long to see that we have a love affair with the short and sweet. Message boards and blogs are filled with the likes of: BFN, BFP, IVF, FET, PIO, IUI, HSG, hCG, p4, E2, etc. It's like alphabet soup around here. So summarizing us as a group with a one word term rather than a description as "women who are dealing with infertility" or "couples who have been unable to conceive within a year/six months" just seems to make logical sense to me.

I often use the term for brevity, but I also regularly use the word to describe myself. If you ask me to describe myself, I'll probably tell you that I'm a witty, book reading, Jesus loving, infertile introvert or something along those lines. Sure infertility has only been a part of my life for a season, but it has really changed who I am. I view the world differently than I did four years ago. I view myself differently. I view hardship, marriage, loss, sickness, God, faith, finances... I view it all differently than I did before infertility. I would say other than my salvation, infertility has been the single most defining thing within my life. It has literally affected everything. So when I say infertile, I say it not as a component of my life, but as a descriptor of my life. I am infertile and infertility defines me.

Several months ago, I watched a message online that I really liked. It is in no way related to infertility, but rather a broader discussion of allowing your weakness to be seen… even boasting of it. I really enjoyed the viewpoint, so I thought I'd share. I know this can be a really controversial topic, so know that I'm not trying to step on toes or in anyway define anyone else. If you don't feel like infertility defines you, or if you have found a way for infertility not to encroach and creep into all aspects of your life, you may really disagree. That's fine. This is simply how I choose to view this thing that has infiltrated and colored my life.

Okay, so this message… you should really just go listen to the whole thing. I listened to the first five messages again last night… they are that good. The entire talk deals with the concept of "in the meantime" and asks the question "What do you do when there's nothing you can do?" I don't know about you, but that pretty much sums up infertility for me… nothing I can do. I mean, yes, absolutely, we have options to try: fertility treatments, diet, acupuncture, adoption, prayer, etc, but ultimately there's really nothing we can do to "solve" the problem. Doing all of the above may or may not bring the solutions we're hoping for (can I get an amen?). All six parts of the series are fantastic, but the second part focuses on the idea that God is most glorified in our weakness.

If asked to come up with some adjectives to describe my state of being right now, I would use words such as broken, discouraged, confused, inadequate… those are of course, separate from my identity in Christ, but that's kind of the point. I myself, do not portray nor boast a position of power. I feel completely helpless to remedy my circumstances. If you listen to part 2, you'll find that the Apostle Paul found himself in similar circumstances. He was imprisoned and dealing with a medical ailment that was debilitating, humiliating, and painful. He was completely unable to change his circumstances and he prayed over and over for the Lord to heal him, to remove the condition, to change his circumstances (sound familiar?). The Lord never removed the medical condition for Paul… He never healed him. That right there is encouraging to me. Paul was an integral part in the creation of the first century church; he is responsible for a large portion of the new testament text… if God was going to change the circumstances for someone, it should certainly have been Paul, and yet, He didn't.

I don't know about you, but I've found that trials in life often put our faith on trail. Infertility, for me, has proven to be both the greatest trial in my life and the greatest testing of my faith. I'm currently reading a new book, Every Bitter Thing is Sweet. I'm only one chapter in, but I can already tell that this is going to be good. The author Sara Hagerty struggled with infertility for years and within the first few pages, she writes "My question was not, Is God good? But instead, Is He good to me?" Mmm hmm, yes and yes. I've wrestled with that over and over again. But the story of Paul (and so many other new testament characters like John the Baptist and Lazarus) help to remind me that God is good. Period. Paul's story provides encouragement as Paul was surely important and dearly loved by God, yet God did not answer his countless prayers for healing. So we can draw a connection to our own circumstances. If God loved and valued Paul, but chose not to answer his prayers, then the lack of answers to my own prayers does not mean that God is absent, apathetic, or angry. I can still be dearly loved and valued. Paul ultimately came to this conclusion:

But he [the Lord] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

So yes, I fully recognize that I am not solely an infertile woman. I am many, many more things: a wife, a daughter, a friend, a sister, a Daughter of the King. I am a book loving, chronic writing, [almost] crazy cat lady. However, infertility is most certainly my weakness. It is the circumstance that I have pleaded for God to change. And infertility defines me in so many ways. Infertility has changed me so much; I feel like my high school classmates wouldn't even recognize me. It's a wonder to me that I don't have a giant flashing billboard over my head with an arrow and the word infertile. I am infertile and infertility is me. And I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, for it is when I am weak that His strength has the potential to be seen through me. So I will boast of my weakness, and use the term "infertile" to define myself. Not only because I find it simpler, nor because I find it to be inclusive and a term of endearment and camaraderie, but ultimately the Lord is most glorified when I am weak. Whether He chooses to say yes to my requests, or respond no, or offer no response at all, He is still good. And my weakness, my inability to provide and do for myself is the greatest platform I can offer for His goodness and grace to shine.