Liturgy of the Month: April 2023
For Infertility
Lord
of Sarai
Of Hannah
Of Elizabeth
Lord of women
Who laugh at the face of hope
Who bargain and plead
Who were shown favor
When will it be my turn?
I have laughed
I have bargained and plead
Where is my favor?
Is this a failure on my part or on yours?
Do you sit with me and wait?
Do you see me?
Do you already know the end of this road?
Perhaps this is an invitation
To redefine what it means to be a mother
For mothers are more than child bearing women
Mothers are warriors
Mothers are caretakers
Mothers are advocates
I am already all those things
Help me to see my worth, already there
Lord of women
Who sit in tension
Who bask in joy
Who are afraid
Who wait
Be with me in these spaces
Validate my pain and my joy even when the world won’t
And make me the one
who Laughs
Who bargains and pleads
And who has received your favor anyways
One day soon.
Did you know during the month of April there is a week called Infertility Awareness Week? This week is of particular meaning for me because it amplifies a huge part of my story.
My husband, Dylan, and I rang in New Year’s of 2020 with a resolution of striving to bring into the world our first child. We began the process of trying and praying for a baby at the beginning of 2021 with high hopes, only to have those hopes crushed when, after a year of trying, we still had no signs of an incoming baby. Over the course of the next two years we faced multiple infertility diagnoses, failed medicated treatment cycles, and crushed hope after crushed hopes. Quickly the sneaky and safer feeling of doubt began to be what we clung most readily to.
By March of 2022 we had experienced 6 failed medicated cycles, 2 failed IUIs, 1 chemical pregnancy, a failed surgery, and multiple instances of defeated hopes. At which point our doctor told us we would very likely never become pregnant.
I wish I could tell you that throughout this process we were seeing and meeting Jesus on our walk. I wish I could tell you that we entered our very last treatment cycle in March with boundless hope.
But the truth is I felt further from God then, than I ever had before. My hope was on the floor. It was stubbornness and a dislike with hearing the word “no” which drove me forward that month fully assuming it would fail.
Settling into a road filled with doubt felt so much safer than settling into one shrouded in hope.
If you know me or listen to Liturgical Shenanigans, you know that we now have a child, Izzy. A baby conceived in doubt. And while you might think this means our journey was over- happy ending achieved- it’s not so simple. Every single day of that pregnancy we lived in fear fully expecting not to walk away with a baby by the end.
In the walk of infertility, there is a taught line we balanced of doubt and hope. Grief and joy. Fear and expectation. This liturgy was written in an attempt to honor that line and give permission to be deep in all the feelings.
1 in 6 couples experience infertility. 1 in 4 experience pregnancy loss. If this is you, hear me: your feelings are valid. I see you. And I hope you feel seen in this liturgy. If this is not you well- do you know 5 people? One of them is impacted by this tough reality. I hope this liturgy empowers you to see them.
Please engage this liturgy as heavily or lightly as you need. Be that alone. In community. With a therapist. With your fertility clinic. Your needs and your story matter.
❤️ Maddie
