Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Go Say Congratulations

Two of my favorite Catholic bloggers are celebrating new life today.

Lauren from Magnify the Lord with Me just adopted a newborn daughter. Yeah!

Nicole from Sew Hormonal just found out she's pregnant again. Yahoo!

St Hannah, in heaven, pray for all of us infertile women to bear an excess "good fruit" in the form of finding many spiritual children to raise up in the knowledge of the Lord.


  1. Hurray for them! It's always great to see families grow!

    What isn't so great, however, is the way you keep describing yourself as infertile. As someone who has never been pregnant and never will be, it REALLY offends and upsets me when you say that. You have five living children and a little saint in Heaven. You are not infertile! I know you don't mean it this way, but when you describe yourself as "infertile" it sounds as though you're not grateful for the little ones God has blessed you with!

    I'm not trying to be mean to you or pick on you... just please consider how many women out there struggle with infertility and would give their eyeteeth to be in your shoes.

  2. I'm very sorry if my prayer caused you pain. Infertility is a very difficult cross and I can't imagine how many unexpected emotional landmines you navigate each and every day.

    In truth I am "infertile". Now I have "secondary infertility", which is a totally different ball of pain from someone who has NEVER gotten blessed with a little baby. I'm not saying that my pain is in anyway worse than yours. But it is there and it sucks.

    My fourth child Tess was born after 2 1/2 years of my painful secondary infertility. I cried hard after each and every period. Truly, Tessy's conception was a miracle I firmly pin on a special grace I received from receiving my brown scapular as a new Carmelite. This youngest kid (my sixth) was a totally undeserved surprise and a very, very welcomed gift.

    Am I know longer "infertile" because I've had two kids since my secondary infertility patch?

    I think so. I'm scarred for life. Just like I'm horribly scarred from having a baby die in the second trimester and having a kid almost pass right into heaven on day six of her life.

    But the thing that is beautiful about our Catholic faith, is that the scars from our horrible, horrible crosses make us holy. They give us life. It's why Jesus still has the marks of his nail holes in heaven.

    Miss Lauren is still technically "infertile", yet her house is stuffed with love, and life and joy.

    I'm sure Nicole probably still emotionally thinks of her body as "broken" and "infertile", but her barren womb has held three precious three souls in less than three years.

    Infertility totally, totally SUCKS! No one is denying that. And it's a special pain to miss the "hand you never get to hold" because there is not even a word in the English language that describes that sort of absence.

    Thank you for your kind words. I will pray for you.

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  4. Thank you for your kindness.

    Don't get me wrong, I can tell you're a good mother and I'm very happy for you... but when someone who has six biological children tells me she's "infertile" it's like a slap in the face. (I can't comment on Lauren or Nicole since I don't read their blogs.)

    I hope that the next time you want to talk about your "struggle with infertility" you realize that someone listening may have struggled much, much harder with this than you ever will and that, while well-intentioned, your words only add to the hurt she feels.

    Again, I'm sorry if I've upset you and I promise that wasn't my intent. I'll pray for you and your family.

  5. Did Abby sin by saying she has had secondary infertility?

    If we walk around, constantly watchful of our speech and actions, in an effort to avoid offending—we become paralyzed. We become afraid to go to funerals, visit hospitals, comfort the sorrowful. We say, "happy holidays".

    We all suffer—and from each individual's perspective, their suffering is powerful, because God doesn't allow us more than what we can handle.

    It can eventually become an endless stratification of suffering. My baby is sicker than yours. My fathers death is more painful to me then yours. My loneliness is more profound then yours.