I Remember....

At the beginning of the year, I made a goal of reading the Ensign from cover to cover. I haven't finished the March magazine yet, partially because there was one article I really didn't feel like reading. But I finally read it this morning, and now I feel like sharing my story. The article is, "Faith and Infertility". I want to share because now that the pain is gone and comfort has come, I might be able to help someone else. Perhaps it might help someone to know that they are not alone in this struggle.

Darin and I are infertile. We tried for years to have babies. We went through surgeries and procedures. We kept it mostly to ourselves. Family knew, of course, and a few friends got wind of it in the ward through unfortunate circumstances, but mostly we didn't talk to anyone about it. We dealt with the grief in private.

I remember the feelings of unworthiness. I remember feeling like we must have done something wrong, the shame, the disconnect with those around us having babies, the silent wonders we imagined others had about our childlessness. I remember someone who didn't understand confidentiality. I remember good intentions of a visit from someone who had found out, and the attempt at trying to console me, but in reality only made me even more depressed. I remember rational behavior was not so easy to come by at times like that.

I remember the vulnerability, the embarrassment in cold rooms with little to shield me from others, sometimes even without the comfort of my husband at my side.

I remember the excitement when it finally worked. And then the tears when the miscarriage occurred. I remember the surprise visit from the nice couple in our ward, after crying the entire day, and not having the courage to tell them what I was going through. To this day, I'm sure they think we were the most unwelcoming people on the planet.

I remember my husband had to be away during one of the procedures. Out camping with the youth. I remember telling Heavenly Father that I was sacrificing my husband for His service during a very difficult time, and I expected Him to bless us in return. Which He did!

I remember when I was pregnant again, and feeling those familiar pains, scared to death that I would lose another one, daring not to get out of bed the whole day, while my husband called me from work to tell me that the doctor on the phone said, "I guess we'll know within 24 hours." (I also remember canceling my appts with this doctor and getting a new one!)

I also remember feeling so thankful for Priesthood blessings that allowed me to carry my baby 36 weeks.

I remember 20 hours of labor, and a distressed baby, while my body decided to rebel once more. And then the final decision that a C-Section was needed.

I remember the difficult pregnancies. Especially the second one, when I had to deal with insensitive comments from ladies at church, and even a family member.

I remember the feeling of realizing I wouldn't be able to do it again.

I remember the decision to adopt, and the months it took to get qualified, and then the disappointment when my husband got seriously ill and we felt we needed to postpone the adoption process until we were sure we could provide a home with both parents alive and well. And then the second time it happened, realizing it just wasn't meant to be.

But most of all I remember how the Lord got us through it all. I'm thankful for our Savior's Atonement, which healed the pain. Which helped me to understand that it was not my fault. I grew to understand that the Lord had a plan for us, and he was in charge.

I love this scripture:

"Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us, and said: Go amongst thy brethren, the Lamanites, and bear with patience thine afflictions, and I will give you success." Alma 26:27

I've realized that for us, success didn't mean having more children. It meant being thankful for the blessings we had receive, and the growth we made through that particular trial.