This is an excerpt from HomeLife Magazine.
I’ve lain awake at night scrolling through decades of apologies I need to make. Instances when I didn’t know the unintended pain I’d inflicted or understand someone’s silent suffering. With age, maturity, and hard-fought life lessons, there comes a new understanding of grief. It’s multi-faceted, uncovering layers of nuisances we never imagined.
For decades, I’ve encouraged women and families knee-deep in the exhausting throes of motherhood with infertility being the farthest thing from my mind. Our home has been the launching pad for some of God’s greatest missional work, and I’m excited about the legacy of an additional generation.
"God welcomes my questions, my cries, and even my dashed dreams."
Jen Schmidt
So when our son and daughter-in-love found out they had a minuscule chance of having biological children, we were devastated. Life changed. Dreams shifted. Future plans instantly rearranged.
My empathy and sensitivity towards those suffering in silence has escalated. One out of every eight women deals with infertility issues. Compound that with the pain that one out of every four women miscarries at some time in their motherhood journey, and we have vast ministry and hospitality opportunities to encourage and support women at every gathering. Stunning statistics sit buried alongside hidden hopes for the future.
If you’ve previously walked this road or are presently pleading for God to expand your family, I recognize the grief and exhaustion you’re carrying. On behalf of myself and others who didn’t understand the devastation before, I’m so sorry for our insensitivity. I know it can be a lonely journey.
Let us not get tired of doing good, for we will reap at the proper time if we don’t give up.
Galatians 6:9
It’s been four years of holding our son and daughter-in-love’s sorrow near to my heart. I’ve wrestled hard with the Lord over this diagnosis and He’s OK with that. I’ll admit that I’ve even gotten a little judgy, pointing fingers at others wondering, Why them and not us? My sin has bubbled up, yet God welcomes my questions, my cries, and even my dashed dreams. He lets me mourn and then reminds me that His Word will not return void. So as the months turned to years, we were invited to claim Galatians 6:9 as our pillar of hope: “Let us not get tired of doing good, for we will reap at the proper time if we don’t give up.”
With that January goal, I’ve decided to usher my heart of sadness into declarations of praise for the Lord’s faithfulness and to walk with those journeying through silent suffering. Does this change the infertility prognosis? No. Are there still questions and uncertainty? Absolutely. But the same God who opens wombs opens hearts too, so we persevere and trust in His goodness. I have no idea what that will look like, but as an adoptee myself, I know that every embryo, every baby, and every child matters. And so I wait as God continues to write the story for my children.
