Trailer: To My Dear, Suffering Friend

My heart breaks as I push publish on the first episode. I didn't ask to be sitting in the ashes of grief with empty arms and an empty womb. But here I am. If you've suffered with infertility, you know what it is like to ask God, “Why?” You know what it’s like to feel angry, defeated, forgotten by God, and lost in your purpose. You may also know what it is like for the Spirit to convict you to accept His will for your life and say, “Yes, Lord,” even though you don’t know what it means or where it’s going or, quite honestly, how you’re going to survive the pain. I get it. I'm navigating these feelings while I write this.  I don’t expect everyone to get it. Quite frankly, I know that most people have not sat in a doctor’s office and in less than 30 minutes been told you’re only way to conceive biological children would be through IVF. Most people haven’t gotten a call that stated your husband is 1 in 3,000, that he has a genetic defect that makes having any biological children less than 1% of a chance. Most people haven’t had to wrestle with the ethics of science and embryos and conception, wondering what to do and what’s morally right or wrong. Most people aren't "infertile." But I am. And maybe you are, too.  Maybe you HAVE had similar experiences in a doctor's office, and you DO get what's it like to be diagnosed "infertile." My heart feels heavy for you, my sorrow is one of solidarity and wishing it wasn’t so. If I could reach across time and space (although maybe a bit creepy), I would wrap you in a hug and cry with you.  When we choose Jesus we are told, “Take up your cross and follow me.” There will be hardship to bear on this broken earth. We are not promised wide roads free of thorns and rocks, we are not promised perfect health and easy marriages and friends who "get you" and a life free of funerals and no, we are not promised babies that look like us that will grow up to sit around our table.  But we ARE promised that His yoke is easy, His burden is light... whatever that means (I'm still trying to figure it out).  We are called to be fruitful in a barren land, but what does that mean for the infertile woman when "infertile" literally means fruitless? On my journey to become a fruitful woman, to deal with sorrow when the answer is “no,” to accept this from God while praying for a miracle, and to glorify Him and pursue truth, health, and joy in the griefs of infertility, I invite you.  Welcome, my dear, suffering friend.

Religion & Spirituality

Christianity

My heart breaks as I push publish on the first episode. I didn't ask to be sitting in the ashes of grief with empty arms and an empty womb. But here I am. If you've suffered with infertility, you know what it is like to ask God, “Why?” You know what it’s like to feel angry, defeated, forgotten by God, and lost in your purpose. You may also know what it is like for the Spirit to convict you to accept His will for your life and say, “Yes, Lord,” even though you don’t know what it means or where it’s going or, quite honestly, how you’re going to survive the pain. I get it. I'm navigating these feelings while I write this. I don’t expect everyone to get it. Quite frankly, I know that most people have not sat in a doctor’s office and in less than 30 minutes been told you’re only way to conceive biological children would be through IVF. Most people haven’t gotten a call that stated your husband is 1 in 3,000, that he has a genetic defect that makes having any biological children less than 1% of a chance. Most people haven’t had to wrestle with the ethics of science and embryos and conception, wondering what to do and what’s morally right or wrong. Most people aren't "infertile." But I am. And maybe you are, too. Maybe you HAVE had similar experiences in a doctor's office, and you DO get what's it like to be diagnosed "infertile." My heart feels heavy for you, my sorrow is one of solidarity and wishing it wasn’t so. If I could reach across time and space (although maybe a bit creepy), I would wrap you in a hug and cry with you. When we choose Jesus we are told, “Take up your cross and follow me.” There will be hardship to bear on this broken earth. We are not promised wide roads free of thorns and rocks, we are not promised perfect health and easy marriages and friends who "get you" and a life free of funerals and no, we are not promised babies that look like us that will grow up to sit around our table. But we ARE promised that His yoke is easy, His burden is light... whatever that means (I'm still trying to figure it out). We are called to be fruitful in a barren land, but what does that mean for the infertile woman when "infertile" literally means fruitless? On my journey to become a fruitful woman, to deal with sorrow when the answer is “no,” to accept this from God while praying for a miracle, and to glorify Him and pursue truth, health, and joy in the griefs of infertility, I invite you. Welcome, my dear, suffering friend.

My heart breaks as I push publish on the first episode. I didn't ask to be sitting in the ashes of grief with empty arms and an empty womb. But here I am. If you've suffered with infertility, you know what it is like to ask God, “Why?” You know what it’s like to feel angry, defeated, forgotten by God, and lost in your purpose. You may also know what it is like for the Spirit to convict you to accept His will for your life and say, “Yes, Lord,” even though you don’t know what it means or where it’s going or, quite honestly, how you’re going to survive the pain. I get it. I'm navigating these feelings while I write this.&nbsp; I don’t expect everyone to get it. Quite frankly, I know that most people have not sat in a doctor’s office and in less than 30 minutes been told you’re only way to conceive biological children would be through IVF. Most people haven’t gotten a call that stated your husband is 1 in 3,000, that he has a genetic defect that makes having any biological children less than 1% of a chance. Most people haven’t had to wrestle with the ethics of science and embryos and conception, wondering what to do and what’s morally right or wrong. Most people aren't "infertile." But I am. And maybe you are, too.&nbsp; Maybe you HAVE had similar experiences in a doctor's office, and you DO get what's it like to be diagnosed "infertile." My heart feels heavy for you, my sorrow is one of solidarity and wishing it wasn’t so. If I could reach across time and space (although maybe a bit creepy), I would wrap you in a hug and cry with you.&nbsp; When we choose Jesus we are told, “Take up your cross and follow me.” There will be hardship to bear on this broken earth. We are not promised wide roads free of thorns and rocks, we are not promised perfect health and easy marriages and friends who "get you" and a life free of funerals and no, we are not promised babies that look like us that will grow up to sit around our table.&nbsp; But we ARE promised that His yoke is easy, His burden is light... whatever that means (I'm still trying to figure it out).&nbsp; We are called to be fruitful in a barren land, but what does that mean for the infertile woman when "infertile" literally means fruitless? On my journey to become a fruitful woman, to deal with sorrow when the answer is “no,” to accept this from God while praying for a miracle, and to glorify Him and pursue truth, health, and joy in the griefs of infertility, I invite you.&nbsp; Welcome, my dear, suffering friend.&nbsp;

Share Trailer: To My Dear, Suffering Friend

Sign up to save your podcasts

Trailer: To My Dear, Suffering Friend

Trailer: To My Dear, Suffering Friend