Infertility sucks.

period.


A dear friend of mine just went through a painful cycle cancellation. It hurts every freakin time. every time. I hate the heartache. I hate the losses. I hate the hope. I hate the bruises from the needles. I hate what it does to marriages. I hate what it does to friendships. I hate the survivor's guilt that goes along with success. I hate the isolation. I hate the loss of faith.

Infertility absolutely annihilated my Pollyanna faith. And it continues to annihilate it. You see, I prayed for Julie. I prayed hard. And we are told over and over and over and over and over and over that whatever we ask for in prayer, we will receive. There are no vagaries here. Jesus is very specific.

Now you can try to talk around it. "God gives what we truly need." "God has a better plan for us." "God knows what is best for us better than we do." But let's face it folks, that's not what the bible says. Jesus does not say, "Ask and my father will think it over and if it fits into His plan or if He thinks it is best for you, then He will give it to you." Jesus does not say, "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed you can move a mountain, if my father had been planning on moving it anyway." That's not what it says. It says, "Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete." Very straight forward.

Well, I did that. I went a step further and I begged. I begged for Julie to have a new baby. I begged for my friend's 16 year old niece's leukemia to be cured. I begged FIVE TIMES that my babies be spared and that they be born into my loving arms. (One of those times my husband was doing mission work in Guatemala.)

But, Julie is crushed. Jenn is dead. And my babies are not with me.

There are only two explanations for this as far as I can see.
1.) Jesus was a liar.
or
2.) My faith is inadequate.
Clearly it is not number one. So, that leaves us with number 2.

This has put quite a dent in my prayer life, as you might imagine. I really don't ask much anymore. It seems to smack me in the face too often. It's that mustard seed faith thing. It kills me. Do I really not even have that much faith. I mean, I'm not a bible literalist. I accept context. I accept metaphor and parable. And I have tried to fit this into those categories. But it doesn't fit. It leaves me mute and tiny and powerless staring up a giant mountain of a mustard seed.