Infertility is Not the End

In watching the 700 Club the other day, I was outraged. Now, for those of you making the, "Uh... what?" face, relax. I don't routinely (read: ever) watch the 700 Club. I had just turned on the TV and some decent network had the misfortune of airing the lunacy to which I'm about to refer. They happened to be talking about infertility, so I stopped to listen for a moment.

So many Christian leaders (I debated putting those words in quotations and decided to give them the benefit of the doubt) act as though if you just pray hard enough, and have enough faith, God will "overcome" your infertility and you'll conceive. And if you don't, well then God has spoken: He doesn't want you to have children and that's your burden. Now you need to pray for Him to help you carry it.

And that is when I changed the channel, and came here: the only place I have to speak out, educate the public, and spread a little tolerance.

I prayed long and hard, and with many tears to conceive. I prayed in every style and fashion I could think of, to every god, goddess, icon, and idol I came across. I lit candles, I recited from books, I said rosaries and Hail Marys. I called on the elements, I opened and closed circles, I did acts of faith. I sacrificed, I bargained, I sobbed, I raged. The only things any god chose to "bless" me with were infertility, early paramenopause, and polycystic ovaries.

I refused to believe two things: 1) The lie that God did not want me to have children, and 2) the lie that the only way to have children is to conceive. My husband and I chose adoption, and God (of any kind) had nothing to do with it. We have a son because we followed a prescribed process of steps, a committee liked our profile, and a woman chose drugs over her child. And as for the notion that everyone who applies for adoption conceives, I offer the following reality check: that only happens in a whopping 5% of cases.

I'm broken, defective, a disappointment to myself and many people around me. And you would have me believe that God wants me to settle for that? Then you and I are accquainted with very different Gods.

Someone actually said to me one day: "It's great you can adopt, but it's too bad you can't get pregnant." Really? Too bad? I don't have to endure swollen feet, night sweats, heartburn, or elevated temperature. I don't have to sacrifice my body and my energy. I don't have to torture the people around me with my mood swings and unreasonable demands. I don't have to endure childbirth and all the decisions that go with it: hospital or home? hot tub or not? Lamaze or epidural? vaginal or C-section? doula? doctor? midwife? You know what? You're right! Given the choice, who wouldn't take all that on?

And bonding? Don't even get me started. My son has no bond with his birthmother. He wouldn't recognize her if she were right in front of him. He may wonder later, but the fact that she carried and delivered him means nothing. He tested positive for meth at birth, that's how much she cared. You know who he is bonded with? My husband. Myself. His grandparents. His face lights up when we get him up in the morning. He stops crying when we hold him. So don't tell me it's too bad I can't get pregnant. Our family is exactly what it was supposed to be.