Bitterness

It is a dagger to the heart whenever I see a newborn baby or a woman who looks to be as far along as I would be right now.

It is so hard to explain to those who have never had to walk in my shoes.

A pregnant lady and a newborn baby is nothing but joy. Right?

Try explaining it to someone who has been told they will never be able to have a child or to someone who has just lost her identical twins.

It is so hard.

It sucks the breath right out of you.

It is so hard to explain because you simply cannot explain the ache. The hurt. The desperation.

When you see a baby or a pregnant lady, you see happiness, hope, a future.

When I see a pregnant lady or a baby, I feel an unexplainable ache. I feel a hurt I have never experienced before. I feel the void in my heart.

I feel lost and alone.

Bitterness and Resentment come up along side me. They try to take my hand in theirs. I resist them. Not because I don't feel welcomed by them but because I know the destruction they can bring.

They are like sugar. They are so sweet at first, but the more they linger, the more they rot. The more they poison.

I know because I have walked with them before.

Seven years ago, my husband and I were labeled as infertile.

I was the first one who was diagnosed as infertile. It frightened me and broke me.

I had always wanted to be a mother, now I was told that the most natural way to have a child was closed to me.

What frightened me was that my husband would eventually blame me. I feared he would leave me because, after all, he was not the problem. He could fulfill his dreams of being a father with someone else.

A few weeks later, my husband was also diagnosed as infertile. I sighed a selfish sigh of relief.

We both contributed to the problem. I thought it was a blessing we were both to blame. I know some marriages can't and don't make it through the battlefield of infertility.

Our marriage would stay intact, we were blessed, because we were both to blame.

Over the course of a few more years, through procedures and medications, our marriage frayed.

My husband clung to the hope of God.

I grabbed the hands of Bitterness and Resentment.

At first they were so beautiful and understanding. They seemed to hold so much promise. It was so natural to welcome them as friends.

When I walked with them, the questions came. Why? Why me? Why us? Why can't it be them? What did we do to deserve this?

Every joy I had in life started to darken. Bitterness and Resentment stepped out of the little place I allowed them, and started to infect every area of my life.

They are not good.

They do look welcoming and it seems so natural for me to want to join them now.

But I know the destruction they can create.

So I turn to them both, look them in the eye and say, "No, thanks. Not this time."

I need to feel my hurt.

I need to feel every aspect of it. Even the areas that others do not understand and frown upon.

I need to walk this road.

It is going to hurt me deeply to see a pregnant woman or a baby. They do hold so much joy and hope of a future.

It hurts because the hope I had envisioned for my babies had changed. It is not gone. It has not ended. It has just changed.

That change hurts.

Ignoring the hands of Bitterness and Resentment, I look to God, grab His caring hands and start to walk. I need to walk this road so I can accept that change.

Stephanie