The dirty word

I watched her write it. I sat and watched her write that word.

We were sitting in the nurse’s office at ART getting our game plan together. We hadn’t officially gotten all the test results back, but the doctor and nurse thought they had enough to begin planning. They didn’t think it was anything unusual or uncommon, just your ordinary malfunctions. Simple fixes, I think one of them said.

We were both so relieved.

I had spent the morning trying not to throw up on our way to Birmingham. I think Page had to pull over a couple of times because I thought I was going to lose it all. I’m seriously so dramatic. So to have a simple, common game plan was the exact news we were hoping and praying for months to hear. Relief isn’t even a strong enough word. The nurse began going over the steps of our game plan. A few pills, a few more visits, nothing too severe. Simple. We would be pregnant.

Then she received another test result. The last one. The game changer. The dream ruiner. The soul crushing blow. And just like that our simple plan vanished. There was no immediate new plan. The doctor was shocked. The nurse was quiet. And we were broken. Our sweet doctor was babbling some random possible explanations, of which I remember nothing. I think she was talking more to herself than us. Then she started ordering more tests to be done immediately, named a handful of other tests we would need that required specialists, reassured us that she was still positive about our case, and went out the door. It was all dreamlike. Like I was detached from the situation, watching a character’s hopes and plans of their future crash about them. The nurse began updating our chart.

And I watched. I watched, frozen, as she wrote “infertile” on our chart. (before this there wasn’t a definite diagnoses of infertility, something about getting around insurance I think) But there it was. Loud and clear in black ink. Forever marring our chart. Our first chart as a couple, as a family. And it was ruined. Everything we had hoped to build together came crashing down in that nurse’s office as we watched her write those nine letters.

We weren’t even sure at this time if IVF was possible. These results y’all, were pretty big. Page and I spent the rest of the visit in silence. We finished the rest of the tests, wrote down the names of all the other doctors we were to visit, paid our bill, and left. All in silence. When we reached the truck we just sat there. Neither of us talking or crying – just processing. Processing is a long…process. It takes days for some people, months or years for others. Some times it’s an all at once operation. Other times its a piece by piece affair. You can’t rush the processing of detrimental news. You have to take it and deal with it the way you deal with it. Your process won’t be just like someone else’s, even your spouse’s. However you process, you just have to do it. You have to come to terms with your situation. You have to be sad and mourn and cry and feel. But you can’t stay there.

In Genesis 11:30 the Bible introduces Sarai, Abram’s wife. It states “Now Sarai was barren; she had no child.” That’s it. That’s her introduction. A verse all its own. She was barren. What a way to be introduced! What a way to be described as a couple. Contrary to popular assumption, infertility isn’t about placing blame. It’s not that the woman can’t carry a child or the man is “shooting blanks” as it’s so candidly put in modern cinema. Infertility is about the couple. When you’re describing one, you’re describing the other. So Sarai and Abram were in this fight together. And Sarai, I feel you. I can feel the weight that this description held on you. I bet you wore it as a coat of dishonor. Something to be ashamed of. A giant, flashing, neon sign that you weren’t enough. You weren’t as good as other women. Your marriage wasn’t as good as everyone else’s. I bet you felt like that neon sign was the first thing everyone saw about you. Saw about your spouse. When people were whispering, you thought they were pitying you because something was innately wrong with your body, with your marriage. Because you were missing something. You weren’t able to perform an act that would give you happiness, respect, fulfillment, prestige in society. It was your duty to have children. That’s the natural next step after marriage. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby carriage. Except your song stopped short. Your marriage stopped short.

And you were barren.

And I feel you.

When we meet Bathsheba in 2 Samuel 11:2, “she was very beautiful.” And Ester “had a beautiful figure and was lovely to look at.” Ester 2:7 That’s how I want to be introduced. Isn’t that how we’d all like to be introduced. But then there’s Sarai and she was barren.

How easy it is for us to choose one single aspect of ourselves, our marriage, our lives and use that to define ourselves. We choose to focus on what we’re lacking and allow that to drive our self image. We’re not pretty enough, or skinny enough, we’re not good public speakers, we’re stay at home moms instead of career women, we’re career women instead of stay at home moms, we’re shy, we laugh too loud, we’re single parents, we have too many opinions, we’re divorced women, and so on and so on.

And we’re barren.

But being childless wasn’t all Sarai had going for her. Just a chapter further Abram calls her beautiful. So beautiful in fact that he was scared the Egyptians would kill him to get to her. Stop limiting yourself, your marriage, your family, or your life to one single description. To one single event in your life. One single thing you missed or messed. Because you are not defined by any one single thing. No one single word. Your life story is so much more than one chapter. How sad and how lost would we be if God just judged us by a single event or choice? Why do we do it then?

Keep reading Sarai’s story. In Genesis 17:15-16 the Bible says “and God said to Abraham “as for Sarai your wife you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and moreover, I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall become nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” God’s plan for Sarai was so much more than she ever imagined. So big that she needed rebranding. God says He will bless her twice in this one sentence. His plan was full of good and beautiful things for Sarai. She was a part of His divine plan. Don’t you dare limit yourself any longer. And certainly don’t you dare limit our God.

I watched her write that word. That word that I thought for months had ruined our life. My marriage would forever be tainted because we would always be lacking compared to others. I still see the pity in some people’s eyes. And I want so badly to explain that away each time. But that’s another blog for another day. Together Page and I mourned what we had lost. But we didn’t stay there. Because there’s more to our story just as there was more to Sarai’s. And I see that unfolding everyday. God has a bigger plan for us than we ever had for ourselves.

Take the dirty words of your life and process them. However long it takes. Then move on. Because you have more work to do. And God has a bigger plan.

Originally posted July 2016