Last year I wrote a post titled Not My Mother's Day. It was about my struggles and sadness about our difficulty conceiving. It was very much from my heart, and I remember crying as I wrote that post. This Mother's Day, although it did have an undertone of sadness for me, I wasn't overwhelmed with what feels like a lost. Honestly, I don't quite remember what we did on Mother's Day specifically or what our church service was even about. So it was a good day apparently.
Father's Day this year was an unexpected day of emotions, though. It was a foul ball right to the chest as I was watching birds fly by. And possibly the first time I've cried in public and at church.
It started out as a great morning, I woke up early enough to get my makeup on and dressed for church ON TIME. And I was looking forward to celebrating Father's Day with the Cowan fam out at the farm. Which included lots of delicious food!
I didn't expect the sermon at church to pull on my heart as much as it did though. It was fine honoring the dads and granddads in the church, having them stand and our church making a donation to a local organization. They did the same thing for Mother's Day to a different organization. It was nice.
Then the sermon began.
The focus of this sermon was "Our Most Precious Resource." And our most precious resource are our children and the next generation. Sid's very first point was that "children are a gift from God." I knew that I was going to be in trouble, that it was going to be hard to sit through and maybe a little emotional. With these words, I began to tear up and clench my jaw. Keeping my thoughts of pain and abandon inside. He read from Psalm 127:3 "Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him." Then Sid continued elaborating on this with phrases like "children come directly from God," "[children] are gifts of grace sent from heaven to earth," "God takes personal responsibility for the creation of life in the womb." He then also read from other passages about God listening to Leah whom then became pregnant, God graciously gives children, sons God has given Jacob, God blesses the fruit of the womb, etc.
Sid mentioned how children are our legacy, that it is important to build a family rather than a business or 401k as a parent. He talked about how Father's Day could be bittersweet for people that have lost a father, or grew up without a dad, or have a bad relationship with their dad.
"Father's Day is also painful for a different reason. Sometimes a couple can't have children for various reasons."
This is the moment my tears spilled over. It felt as if with every word my heart sank deeper into my chest, that it got more uncomfortable to sit in this room of parents and families. Knowing a friend was just seats away expecting her first child. Knowing that my in-laws know how much I wish to start a family. Learning just the day before that one of their close family friends were expecting their first child.
"This text here doesn't say that not having children is a sign of God's judgement... What about those couples that desperately want children, but can't have them?"
Soon after this I walked out. For the first time. I went to the restroom to cry a little and gather myself back up to return to the service. I left my phone with Anthony and a part of me really just wanted to walk out the front doors and keep walking. Actually, I often think about just leaving everything for awhile. Pack myself a bag, grab some cash and just take a drive. Anywhere but here. Anywhere I can get away from my pain and hurt.
But you can't run away from your pain. So I put myself together and marched back to my seat. Only to hear more words that stung my heart. I thought I could fight back the tears. Just get through service until I could get to the car and let it out. My brother-in-law was seated in the row just in front of me and could see me dabbing at my eyes. He gave me a comforting pat on my knee, acknowledging my sorrow and understanding my pain. That's when I really lost it. My tears weren't just streaming from my eyes, but they were fighting to get out of my chest.
Anthony wrapped his arm around me and asked if I wanted to go, I nodded yes. So dipped my head down as he escorted me out of the sanctuary through the halls and back to our car.
I sobbed.
I was so surprised by my emotions and overwhelmed by my desire to be a mother and to give my husband children. To give my parents grandchildren. To leave a legacy of our own. To train up children for God's kingdom and show them God's love. For years I have had this yearning to be a mother and for over a year we had been attempting to make that a reality, but it is still not God's timing.
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When I began writing this post, I thought that I had made it out of that service without bringing alarm to anyone. That even if people knew my struggle with infertility, maybe that didn't see me leave or maybe they assumed I left for a different reason. One month later I learned that was not the case.
Someone had seen us leave. Someone had seen my heartache and sorrow. It had affected them. They shared with me that God had urged them to go say something, to comfort me, to follow us out the door and just say, "I see you, God sees you." Struggling with PCOS and infertility I often feel very alone. That this is my problem to deal with. It isn't my husband's fault we can't get pregnant, it's mine. That other people and couple's don't want to hear about our problems conceiving because that's sad and awkward to talk about. I have been very open about it because it does make me feel so alone and I know that if I don't talk about it then I can end up in a dark place.
Our friend didn't follow us out that day. He didn't stop me or tell me anything. But he told me that he wished he did. He felt awful for not doing what God was asking him to do. And he apologized to me and asked for forgiveness. And I forgave him. But I cannot express to you how comforting it was to learn that he saw me and that God spoke to his spirit about me. I was so grateful that he had reached out to me to let me know the experience he was having at the moment I was grieving.
I share the story because I was completely caught off guard by my reaction and emotions. I didn't know what to do and felt embarrassed that I couldn't make it through church service because I was so overwhelmed. My husband did the right thing by escorting me away and I know my brother-in-law was doing his best to comfort me, and I 1000% appreciated that gesture. And if our friend had rushed out just to give me a hug and say, "I see your pain and I'm so sorry," it would have made a world of difference.
Don't pretend like you don't see others hurting. Yes, it may be awkward to confront someone you may not know very well. But the kindness and compassion a hug or acknowledgement of the pain makes us feel less alone. I don't want to or like to burden people with my issues, but I share my PCOS & infertility story because I know I will be much worse off if I don't invite others in to help me.
I want to be that hand that reaches through the dark to someone else and says "You are not alone. I am here with you and I see your hurt. I will go through this with you."
I encourage you to reach out to others you see hurting, too. You can change someone's life.
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