Infertility is hard. No one expects a doctor (or multiple doctors) to tell you that you’ll never have children who share your genetics. Yet today, 1 in 6 couples will struggle to conceive naturally. The nature of infertility is especially personal, which can make it difficult to share with others. For us, infertility was our five-year secret.
About Us
Perry and I were high school sweethearts. We started dating in 2009, got engaged in 2014, and got married in 2016. In 2019, I graduated law school and passed the Bar, so we felt ready to start a family. (Our views on this form of family planning has since changed drastically, but that’s a story for another day.) Looking back, I have to chuckle at how nervous I was to be taking that plunge. I felt as if I was saying I was mentally and financially “ready” to be a mom. In reality, the idea of “choosing” to bring another human into the world terrified me. If only I knew then the amount of time I’d have to ponder those fears.
Prepared for Disappointment
Infertility is always a shock, and yet in the back of my mind I always had doubt. If you know me, you know I’m a realist (optimists might call me a pessimist). I tend to expect the worst, which I think is a defense mechanism to try to avoid disappointment in life. I always had a suspicion in the back of my mind that this journey would not be easy. Sadly, that concern became a reality. After a year, I started undergoing tests. I visited that office often within the course of a few months, but my doctor found nothing that would prevent pregnancy. At that point, she made Perry an appointment with an infertility specialist.
Infertility Diagnosis
When we got the diagnosis of male factor infertility (azoospermia, precisely), I had questions. “What can we do? Would diet changes, increased exercise, supplements, or something else help?” (Keep in mind, I was not very natural minded at this time.) Essentially, I wanted to know what was causing this problem in an otherwise healthy, young male. The doctor laughed in my face and made us an appointment for surgery in Chattanooga; we were told this was our only option.
Seeking Answers
Believe it or not, I was not pleased with that answer, and neither was Perry. This was a painful, invasive surgery that was not without risk. Worse, we still didn’t have any clue about the root cause. Without going into detail, the surgery was exploratory and was not looking for the “why” behind our infertility. We decided to cancel that appointment and try to pursue answers. After a few more doctor visits, we felt disappointed and ignored and had no more answers than when we started the process.
Assisted Reproduction
We were told assisted reproduction would be our only hope, and even that was slim. IVF (in vitro fertilization) is expensive enough, and we were told we would likely require ICSI (intracytoplasmic sperm injection), which was even more expensive and success was far from guaranteed. Ultimately, no one seemed to want to help us figure out why a twenty-something year old man with no other known health issues was totally infertile. Was there a blockage? Was it hormonal? Toxicity? This process played a big role in opening our eyes to the realities of big pharma, the medical system’s priorities, and the lack of critical thinking.
There was a lot to process once we were told by multiple people that the likelihood of us conceiving naturally was slim to none. The hurt was present, but I had a supernatural peace in the reality that God is sovereign and He alone can open and close my womb. I never felt the finality of that diagnosis.
Perry had his own journey and his own emotions to process, and while I won’t speak for him, he carried a lot of grief and guilt over “keeping” me from having kids. I just wouldn’t entertain that as it was not at all how I perceived the situation. I never felt like Perry was infertile and I wasn’t. Perry and I covenanted with one another and God when we got married, and at that point, we became one flesh; therefore, if he was infertile, so was I.
Processing Grief
Nonetheless, being told that you cannot conceive naturally is devastating news, especially when you’ve been dreaming since high school of what your future kids would look like. Would they have dad’s red hair or mom’s green eyes? Would they have my laid-back, easy-going personality or be ambitious and high-strung like Perry? (If you don’t know us, this is a joke.) Every pregnancy announcement, baby shower invitation, and crying baby served as a reminder of what we didn’t have.
Part of processing this diagnosis as a Christian involves seeing it in light of Scripture. God tells us that children are a blessing and a reward.
Behold, children are an inheritance of Yahweh, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. How blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them; they will not be ashamed when they speak with enemies in the gate.
Psalms 127:3-5
Then God blessed them saying, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let the birds multiply on the earth.”
Genesis 1:22
We know that it is good and natural to desire children. However, God’s Word also gives multiple examples of barren women. Why is this, particularly among God-fearing people? Ultimately, the answer lies in the nature of our sinful, fallen world. As Christians seeking to honor God by raising children in the fear and admonition of the Lord, the sting of infertility is deep. Even as you pray and process and work towards surrendering your will to God’s perfect plan, the pain lingers. The thoughts inevitably creep in. You wonder why God hasn’t seen fit to bless you. Why can that couple have a baby?
The Curse of the Fall
Those thoughts of bitterness and envy certainly crept in at times. Never was the sting so prevalent as when I was working as a child attorney, defending abused and neglected babies. To add insult to injury, most of the parents were repeat offenders. Yet, as quickly as Satan would whisper in my ear, “Why are they as fertile as rabbits and you can’t have even one?” the Lord was kind to remind me of the answer. We live in a sinful, fallen world. This is purely a testament of God’s grace and patience with me. I am prone to selfishness and self-pity, and yet He never let me linger with those thoughts. He quickly replaced them with the reminder that He alone opens and closes wombs and that He has a plan that is good for my life.
Being Vulnerable
Sharing an incredibly personal journey feels vulnerable. However, we believe God can be glorified in this testimony of His goodness and faithfulness. We hope to encourage those who may be facing a similar diagnosis. You are not alone. God has not forgotten you. He hasn’t overlooked you and He doesn’t despise you. Every circumstance, even the painful ones, are for our good and His glory if we are in Christ.