The Death of a Dream

Joy's personal story of infertility

We started out our marriage with confidence in God and in ourselves. My husband, Jonathan, and I both believed that we would have a house full of blond- and red-haired children. It seemed so easy then: Obey God and be blessed.

That was 20 years ago. Psalm 125 talks about a quiver full of children. Our quiver is still empty.

Infertility has taught and tested me. It has brought tears of anguish and of acceptance. In the early years well-meaning Christians said things that hurt me. I felt less-than-a-woman when months became years and no child filled my womb. The emptiness was almost unbearable. And, because of the intimate nature of our problem, we felt alone. I never blamed the silence on anyone. Most people are not comfortable with the subject. Besides, bringing it up would likely cause more hurt.

I attended baby showers and sincerely rejoiced with the new mothers. To fill empty hours, I took care of my friend's children. And I fell in love with our nieces and our nephews. It all helped. Yet the void remained. It took a while for me to realize that the physical emptiness was only part of it. My heart felt empty too.

One afternoon I sat in our living room begging God to show me his way through this wilderness. The Scriptures tell us that children are a blessing from God. Why was he withholding this blessing from us? The harsh words spoken by others haunted me: Was there a sin in my life hindering God from blessing? Was he punishing me? Couldn't he trust me with a child?

Filled with these and other questions, I opened my Bible to my reading that day: "Now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, saying, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' Jesus answered, 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him.' "1

Through reading this passage I learned that God was not punishing me. He trusted me to handle infertility and to bring him glory through it. I found both relief and conviction here. How I handled infertility might be the only reflection of God that someone might see! I let go of the guilt and the fear that a sin of mine was hindering a pregnancy. My confidence in God returned. That was Phase One in the healing process.

Jonathan and I went through the medical procedures at the infertility clinic. At this point we did not consider adoption. We believed that prayer and medical science would solve our problem. Some of the tests were painful. I felt invaded and studied. The clinical atmosphere left me feeling cold. And, like many other couples, we came away with more questions than answers. We asked each other and God, "If there is nothing wrong, why aren't we having children?" and, "How far do we want to take this? What procedures are ethical?" The price of medical intervention was too high for us--emotionally, spiritually and mentally.

Four years later I read, "There are three things that are never satisfied, Four things never say, 'It is enough': The grave, The barren womb, The earth that is not satisfied with water, And the fire that never says, 'It is enough.' "2 God listed my suffering along with natural disasters and death. No wonder it hurt!

Phase Two of my healing began as I realized that I was grieving the death of a dream. I found that I could accept the pain, knowing that God understood my emptiness. My confidence in God grew.

Phase Three began with forgiveness. I needed to forgive the people who had hurt me. Forgiving those who had not meant to hurt me came easily. Forgiving those who had hurt me intentionally was difficult at best. I hung on to my anger. Then I read, "You are my portion, O Lord; I have said that I would keep Your words."3 That meant I was to forgive "seventy times seven."4 I asked God to help me forgive. By God's grace and in his time this was accomplished.

There are still unkind words and hurts that I need to deal with. And it still stings when I realize that I will probably never have children to call my parents "Grandma" and "Grandpa," or to call my brother "Uncle." When I see a little red-haired boy, I wonder what a son of ours would have looked like.

There are lonely times. I face never being called "Mom" or "Grandma." I have a deep ache when I see my husband's pain--no child runs to him calling, "Daddy!"

And I still don't know why. But I do know that God is all that his Word says he is, and I trust him. In that trust I find a special blessing--peace. I can say with the psalmist, "The Lord is my strength and my shield; My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped; Therefore my heart greatly rejoices, And with my song I will praise Him."5

The psalmist also says, "He grants the barren woman a home, Like a joyful mother of children."6 Our home has been built in the woods. In my quiet time I gave to God the house and my desire to fill it with children. We weren't actively seeking ways to minister to children, and we lived several miles out of town on a gravel road. Yet, a couple of days after I had prayed, someone knocked on my door. A neighbor girl stood there with tears in her eyes. Her mom had just left the family for another man. The girl needed someone to talk to, and I was the only woman around who was at home during the day.

In time, Jonathan and I made the tough decision not to adopt children. When we completed our medical journey, we took a close look at our lives. We found a deep desire to be all that we can be in the lives of other children.

Nieces and nephews come for minivacations. Friends bring their children for help with their homework, for computer lessons, to play games, to stay over for a "fun" night, or so that I can teach them to read. We've even had the joyous opportunity to take some kids on vacation with us.

As these children have grown, I am deeply touched when they have kept in touch with me, knowing that I will pray for them! Some have come to know the Lord Jesus while spending time with us. These are the times when I know that God is blessing me. When I think back to my prayer giving our house to God, I feel as if I were Gideon laying out a fleece--I laid out our house and waited for God.

Sometimes I cry in despair when I read about a mother who has hurt or killed her children. Or about a teenager who has become pregnant and wishes she weren't. And I have moments of anger. At times like these I remind myself that God sees the entire picture--I see only "through a glass, darkly."7 God has taught me to pray for these mothers. He has taught me the blessing of trusting him.

Sometimes our house is empty. Other times it is full. When we decided to let go of our dream and let God fill our home, we were obedient. We obeyed God and he has blessed us!

(1) John 9:1-3, NKJV. (2) Proverbs 30:15-16, NKJV. (3) Psalm 119:57, NKJV. (4) Matthew 18:22, NKJV. (5) Psalm 28:7, NKJV. (6) Psalm 113:9, NKJV. (7) 1 Corinthians 13:12, KJV. Bible verses marked NKJV are taken by permission from The Holy Bible, New King James Version, copyright ©1979, 1980, 1982 Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers, Nashville, Tennessee

This article was taken from Decision magazine, November 1997; ©1997 Billy Graham Evangelistic Association; used by permission, all rights reserved.