Entries here at "Jenni's Journal" are designed to be "infertility-friendly" with an intentional avoidance of many pregnancy/baby/child-related references. If you are looking for updates focused on motherhood after infertility, you are welcome to visit our
On the Proverbs 31 Ministires blog (heads-up, the author is a mother of 5, 2 through adoption, so there will be occasional references to motherhood but not the theme of this post) there is a
writing challenge this week. God pulled me from bed 2 hours early this morning, prompting me to write my article for this contest. But when I took a quick visit to the
Hannah's Prayer Community Forums (message boards) before coming here, He quickly made it clear that what I had planned to write was not what He wanted me to say this morning. She I'm tossing my notes aside and giving a heart answer to a grieving friend instead.
After sharing of the deaths of two grandmothers and her unborn (six-years-awaited) child all within a two month time span, she writes:
"How do I trust Him and what am I trusting? I want to trust that this will never happen again and I know that isn't possible. I have been such a faithful Christian, I go to church every week, I [serve om multiple] ministries, what else do I need to do to be blessed with biologically carrying a child?
"I just don't understand and I am so confused right now. I am scared of how mad at God I am!"
Precious Friend, my heart hurts for all the trials you have endured. I'm sure you have heard that grief has stages. You are facing two very distinct kinds of grief right now - the profound and specific losses of three precious to you (all in a very compact timeframe), and the ongoing, less definable but every bit as real, ongoing grief of loss upon loss, month upon month, hope upon hope, dream upon dream. Anger is one very valid stage of grief, as is "bargaining" (as reflected by your questions above).
I struggled with these same questions. Not just struggled, but wrestled and fought under their weight as you do! In the end God reminded me that just as I cannot earn His grace, a child is also a gift, not a right, and that He alone is the giver of good gifts. He gives them to whom He chooses, in the timing that He deems most perfect. He does not give according to "merit" for all my works are still broken offerings and worthless rags. He gives according to His goodness and best plan.
As much as I long to give you a "formula" I can only speak from having survived those depths where you now find yourself and encourage you to remember that you cannot earn a baby. The Psalm "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." had me convinced otherwise for a time, that if I could just show God how much I was doing for His service, that surly He would honor that. And then one day, in as close to any "audible voice from God" experience I've ever know, He impressed so clearly on my heart that I had the totally wrong idea of what it meant to "delight" in Him with, "My child, you cannot treat me according to the gifts I choose to give or to withhold. I am Worthy of your praise, with or without a baby!" It was then that I realized that a baby had become an idol to me, taking my focus and God's rightful place of longing in my heart.
This realization wasn't an immediate fix, didn't make me "all better" over night, and certainly didn't instantly cause my womb to become fertile. But it was a significant turning point in my heart, the start on a pathway toward healing and freedom from anger's bitter grasp, the first glimmer of hope that there truly was light on the other side of that deep, dark, senseless valley of grief.
As for anger, I know that the anger itself can be a fearful thing. May I encourage you that your anger does not take God by surprise and that He is big enough to handle it? Death makes Him angry too. This fallen world is not as He designed it and death is an evil, vile thief. If we believe that God has the power to prevent such evil and yet chooses not to take action, why wouldn't we be angry with him? What God wants from you the most right now is your honesty, with yourself and with Him. Let Him know exactly how angry you are, why you are angry, how you feel betrayed... Hold nothing back. Yell it out to Him if you need to. Start a journal and get it all out there in black and white.
And then, once you have laid yourself bare before Him, ask Him to take all that brokenness, bitterness, disappointment, grief, and more, and replace it with heart healing and peace. He is the author of hope and we are promised that when our hope is in Him (not elsewhere, like in a baby) that He does not disappoint. I am not saying this to crush your dreams that God may yet have motherhood in His plans for you. In fact, it is my earnest prayer that He does, and from a human standpoint I pray that this answer to prayer comes much sooner than later. I am simply saying that when we get to this stage of grief, our needs are far bigger than simply that of conception. While there is nothing you can do to "earn" a baby (and you will only make yourself more miserable in the attempt), please allow God to start bringing Life in a new way as He is the only one who can meet this terrible heartache.
{{{Hugs!}}}
JenniLabels: anger, bitterness, contest, grief, hope, Peace, Sacrifice, testimony
On the
Hannah's Prayer Community Forums I am posting monthly devotionals based on various chapters of
Hannah's Hope. Here's the 9th in this series.
The following is copyrighted material and has been adapted from "Bitterness of Soul" chapter nine of
Hannah's Hope: Seeking God's Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage, & Adoption Loss by Jennifer Saake, NavPress, 2005. Please do not duplicate without permission. You may read a portion of this book
here.
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In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the Lord. - 1 Samuel1:10 (NIV)
Therefore I will not keep silent;
I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit,
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.- Job 7:11 (NIV)Naomi knew the pain of a bitter heart. She lost her husband and both sons in a foreign country. When she returned home her soul was so wounded that when friends called her Naomi, a name that means "pleasant," she replied, "Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty" (Ruth 1:20-21). Literally translated, the Hebrew word
mara means "bitter." The idea behind this word is marrow, or the core substance of something; thus Naomi's bitterness penetrated through the very depths of her being.
Mara is quite similar to the word used to describe the bitterness Hannah faced as she went before God after years of pain and longing for a child. Hannah's bitterness,
marah, also indicates great heaviness, disconnection, and chafing.
Bitterness is described in Hebrews as a root that defiles the soul, causing us to miss the grace of God. Nothing chokes out peace faster. Intense
marah was deeply rooted within my heart for a long time. I felt raw, weighed down, constantly rubbed in the wrong direction. I was disconnected from God, my husband, my friends, and even myself.
I felt totally neglected and abandoned. I wondered how I could trust a God who would be so unloving as to give me such a strong desire to reproduce then not enable me to accomplish the task. All the waiting, disappointment, frustration, faith, hope, prayer, begging, pleasing, doctor's visits and medication seemed futile. God seemed so very far away.
Finally I had it out with God in a yelling, stomping, fist-shaking, tearful fit unlike any I had ever dared before. I had never dared admit to Him, nor to myself, just how really angry I was. But He had known the true nature of my heart all along. I couldn't shock or surprise Him with my temper tantrum. He was big enough to handle all my rage. By fully confronting Him, I admitted to both of us exactly how I perceived our relationship. But to my surprise, rather than driving Him further away, He drew me close!
Honesty unlocked the rusty gate to the wall I had built around my heart. It was an amazing breakthrough for me to understand that even if my prayers are only yelled at God in total disillusionment, I must keep taking my pain to God. He cannot help me when I lock Him out, hide or run away. I am free to weep with Hannah, as long as that weeping was done
before the Lord.
The truth is, even when He
seems silent to my cries, He is listening and does care, grieving deeply with me in my loneliness. Not only does He care, but He relates with personal understanding. Remember Jesus' cry from the cross, "My God, why have you forsaken me"?
While I demanded the joy of motherhood, I never stopped to consider how it would break my heart to be rejected by my child in the way I was treating the Lord. By grace, just as I could never stop loving a prodigal, God's persistent love never abandoned me either.
But neither did His love trespass where uninvited. In order for fellowship to be restored, I had to ask Him to knock down walls and weed my heart. Jesus declares, "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful" (John 15:1-2). Pruning often seems more painful than letting bitterness remain rooted, but God is the master Gardener who desires to see us bloom. By drinking deeply of Living Water, even when I don't feel like it, the soil of my heart will slowly soften, allowing weeds to less painfully release their hold.
Labels: anger, bitterness, monthly book devotional