Womanly Wednesday: The Fear of Infertility

Welcome to this week’s Womanly Wednesday! In this series, different women share their struggles, bravely opening up about their stories so that other people would be inspired and encouraged.  Today’s guest poster Liz is a close friend of mine and I am SO excited about the blog/online community she has started called Flourish.   Make sure to pop over and check out what’s happening there – it’s pretty darn great! 

“Without fear there is no wisdom because we’re not stopping to assess the circumstances, respect the challenges, reach out for help, prepare for the results, and then march into them.” -Chip Dodd, The Voice of the Heart

It was baby dedication Sunday at church. As the parents introduced their children, my husband Matt leaned over and whispered sweetly into my ear, “Someday our parents will be here watching us dedicate our children.” In an instant, those simple words made their way into a dam full of stored up tears and opened the floodgates of my heart. There was no going back: I was in the middle of service weeping–trying not to make snotty noises—and poor Matt confused as to what he said wrong. As we got into our car after service, Matt broke the silence, “Do you want to talk about what happened in there?” I stared out the window, “I’m afraid that it won’t be us.”

When I was 15 years old, I was diagnosed with an endocrine disorder called PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome). Women who have PCOS struggle to ovulate consistently or at all, which makes getting pregnant difficult. One of the many complications of PCOS is infertility. There are many women with PCOS who have been fortunate to birth children. Some do it naturally while some need medical help. Some women have healthy pregnancies while some struggle with miscarriage. There are stories of hope in getting pregnant with PCOS, and there are also stories of great loss. I recognize both.

As I approach 30, my growing desire to start a family is evident. Matt and I catch ourselves talking about how we want to name our future boy after my grandpa. We dream about what kind of parents we’ll be and the traditions we’ll have in our household. We wonder whether they’ll have my little nose or Matt’s dark hair. Even in the excitement of our conversations, I feel my mind drift into the possibility that that may not happen for us. Or if it does, it will be a hard path. I peak over the ledge with joyful anticipation and also caution.

Coping with PCOS has already made me face my brokenness tangibly. I think about it in the morning when I take my handful of pills. I feel it when I’m too fatigued to get off the couch. I’m reminded of it with my acne scars and strict diet. What seems easy to other women feels difficult for me. I look at my body, and I can’t help but think that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.

In order to get pregnant, I’ll have to stop taking my medications. This includes birth control pills (which help me ovulate) and other medications that manage my PCOS symptoms. Truthfully, they’ve only served as Band-Aids all of these years instead of actually helping the root cause of my hormone imbalance. This doesn’t negate the fact that the natural and necessary process of balancing my hormones absolutely terrifies me. To eliminate the very elements that have helped steady me for so long after finally finding a regimen that works is like throwing a wrench into the mix.

My greatest fear in pregnancy is that my body will fall short and disappoint me again. I’m afraid that eliminating medication will cause my body to fall back out of control and that I won’t be able to do what so many women in history have naturally done: birth children. The interesting gift of fear is that it shines light on the desires that I’m afraid I won’t attain. But even stronger than my desire to be a mother is a deep longing for God and the wholeness that only He brings. Having the perfect body and spotless health won’t make me complete, and it won’t heal my soul. Only God can calm the stormy waters in my heart — only He can make me truly whole.

In the midst of my fears, God is here. There is no size of doubt or depth of fear that threatens Him. He is in the joy and the suffering. He is in the celebration and the grieving. He is in “baby” and “no baby.” God remains faithful and good in it all. Therefore, I don’t have to hide or be ashamed of my fear because it leads me back to Hope. So I live in the tension of excitement and expectation, reality and sober-mindedness. I approach the unknown of the next chapter of my life with open hands and an open heart, knowing profoundly my fears and also the faithfulness of my God.

Liz lives in Kansas City where she sells real estate and is married to her best friend, Matt. She is an advocate of good coffee, slow mornings, deep conversation, dancing, and healthy living. Birthed out of her struggle with chronic illness, Liz recently launched Flourish which exists to encourage and equip women to pursue holistic health so that they can flourish in the world. Liz loves connecting with other women. You can read more on her blog or connect on Facebook.