Good Friday and infertility: death and resurrection

“And Jesus cried again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit.” (Matthew 27:50) 

When I was a kid, I loved Easter for two things: chocolate and Jesus of Nazareth, the movie. That movie was what I looked forward to the most. It played at the same time and on the same channel each year. It became a ritual. I was taken in by the beautiful story that was unfolding before my eyes. When we got to the part where Jesus dies on the cross, I would close my eyes. I was scared because I didn’t want Him to die. I kept silent. I mourned His death. I rejoiced because I knew He would come again and resurrect! In my innocent child-like eyes, Jesus dying for me was so special and unique. Each Easter was a reminder of His death together with a joyful ending: His resurrection.

Then, Easter changed. It became a season of darkness and perpetual death. This darkness settled in my heart after we miscarried our first and only biological child. I was left barren and fruitless. Although Jesus died and resurrected, I remained dead inside because my fertility was dead and would never resurrect.

“My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” (Matthew 26:39b)

The first Easter after our miscarriage was rough. A season in the liturgical year that I longed for became an endless painful season. On Good Friday, when He died on the cross, I felt my chances of becoming a mother die along with Him. I knew He would resurrect. But my fertility wouldn’t. My fertility would forever be dead. I had a painful cross with no one to help me carry it. I was permanently burdened to live a barren and fruitless life.

I knew I was not owed a child. I knew a child was a blessing and not a right. Still, I would beg God to take away this infertility. I wanted nothing to do with it. I had not asked for it. Still, I had no other choice but to accept it because He had a plan for me. I was not asked to understand Him and His will; I was asked to obey it.

I certainly didn’t want this to happen. I kept denying it and telling myself it would happen. I just needed more medication, more supplements, more hormones… More of anything that could make me conceive.

The burden was too heavy. The mere idea of never being able to become a mother was too much to accept. I made all the possible lifestyle changes in the hopes of being able to conceive. I wanted nothing more. I was not even able to enjoy anything because I could not share it with my children… because I could not have children.

“Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” (John 20:15a)

I cried many tears: at the doctor’s office, a family event or just another pregnancy announcement. During that season of life, it felt as though the world was reminding me that all women could conceive, except me. I wept until I could weep no more. I looked to the cross and asked Him: why? This is too hard Please! Listen to my cries!

And yet, all I could hear was: “Why are you crying? What are you seeking?” I could not believe He was asking me that. He of all people, the one who made me in His image, knew why I was crying and what I wanted. It took a while before I finally understood His questions. It was then I came to realize that I was seeking Him. I needed Him to help me carry my cross. I needed to unite my suffering to His on the cross.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

If I wanted to move on from this pain, I had to sit still. I had to allow Him to settle into my heart. I had to let Him take over. I could only do that by deepening my relationship with Him. I read Scripture, prayed and filled my life with activities that served Him. I did so by volunteering my time at a clinic that taught the Creighton Method – a mucus-based natural family planning system. I received training in how to teach that method. I started to help others carry their cross of infertility.

Building a relationship with God is hard. It demands a lot on our part. It takes us to places we don’t want to go but places that He needs us to be. I wasn’t only helping others; I was serving Him. I was also using my gift of infertility to help women overcome their own fertility issues.

Those six years were so fruitful. I witnessed many couples becoming parents. I also was present with those who lost their children. It was a lesson in humility as they conceived and I didn’t. It was a lesson in gratitude when I saw many women get healthy.

“For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I will help you.” (Isaiah 41:13) 

Once I started to let go of my will, I surrendered to God. That decision started my healing process. While the desire to be a parent is good, it can turn into something bad when you remove God from the desire. We fail to remember that what we want is irrelevant. What God wants for us is what we should aspire to. Oh yes, it is hard… so very hard! But that detachment from our earthly desires comes with precious gifts: healing and salvation.

It was during my years at the clinic that we began growing our family via adoption. Many told us it would take a while before our family was complete. We were told horrible stories about adoption. We were told to fear it. We didn’t let any of that worry us. We trusted Him. We went through the entire adoption process – and it’s a long one! God helped us along the way. He helped us so much that we adopted three children within 26 months! Praise God!

Before, Easter was a harsh reminder that my fertility would never come back to life. As I healed from my fertility wound, Easter became a promise of light after the darkness. I knew our turn to become parents would come. I just had to wait for God’s timing. It was not an easy task. It was a painful wait. 

After we became parents, it all became clear. During those trying years, God was there helping me. I was not able to see it. I was far too deep in the trenches. Once out of them, I saw God’s hand at play. He was along for the ride. He gave us strength when ours failed. He put us in touch with the right people to proceed with our adoptions. He gave us wonderful and loving birth moms that made us parents. He prepared us during our barren journey to become parents.

This Good Friday, not all of you, my dear sisters in Christ will be joyful in your hearts. Many of you will be going through your barren desert. For you, I offer up my prayers and sufferings. For you, I pray your suffering comes to an end. For you, I ask that you allow me to carry your cross. I know your pain. I feel your pain. I remind you that you are seen and loved by God. I remind you that you will find that resurrection in your pain. I send you a hug, a comforting hand on your shoulder and all my prayers.

Dear God,

As we begin this journey towards your resurrection, remind me of your suffering.

Allow me to unite my pain to the one Your Son experienced on the cross.

As I walk through my barren desert, never leave my side.

As I cry to You, show me Your presence.

As I pray to You, hear my plea.

Thank you for Your Son who has died for me.

Thank you for giving me this cross as it unites me to Him.

Help me seek You always.

Help me surrender to You.

Help me serve You.

Amen.