Healing the Fertile Heart

I decided to focus this post on healing (because Heaven knows that’s what we all need in life.)  As I’ve put material together for this concept I’ve realized that I personally have been going through the healing process for two major issues: mourning, and fertility of the heart.

It’s an interesting phrase “fertility of the heart” but I found a quotation on the subject so beautiful I had to share it:

“When God made woman, He made her to bring forth new life. Yes, He made her to birth children, but when God made woman, He made her heart fertile as well. It is in the heart of a woman that dreams and visions are born. It is in a woman’s heart that she makes plans for a future. I might dare say that the soft ground of a woman’s heart is the most fertile thing about her.”

“Hope After Miscarriage” -scissortailsilk.com

I have lots of thoughts from outside sources in this post, because I’ve read so many things lately that have really spoken to me.  I do need to read my scriptures more, but I am thankful to find peace in many sources of good reading in my life.  The concept presented in that beautiful paragraph of “fertility of the heart” resonated so strongly with me.  Not only am I mourning my losses; I am learning to heal and live even with the ache of infertility in my heart.  Infertility is not the only thing that hurts us; I read a blog post this week about the “ache.”  It was written by a woman who had three children and won’t be having any more.  She spoke of the ache that women have when they are done having children- whether it be for health reasons or even just menopause.  No matter how old you are, she said, it’s always sad and there is always an ache.  It seems our emotions truly were designed with a desire for children.  

It’s important to recognize the hurt so that we can begin to heal.  I read some wise words regarding healing that I wanted to share.  They are honest and to the point, and I think it’s important to remember that healing hurts so that we don’t feel discouraged going through the pain:

I have learned that healing hurts. Life hurts. Healing really only begins when we face the hurt in its full force and then grow through it with all the strength of our soul. For every reward of learning and growing, some degree of pain is always the price.

To begin healing, you must acknowledge and feel the hurt. Healing is active. It requires all the energy of your entire being. You have to be there, fully awake, aware, and participating when it happens.

When we have a terrible loss or pain, we may seek to “get back to normal” or to the way things were before, but they will never be the same. Pain changes us, but not in the same way that healing teaches us. Healing can help us to become more sensitive and more awake to life. Healing inspires repentance and obedience. Healing invites gifts of humility and faith. It opens our hearts to the profound complexities of truth, beauty, divinity, and grace.

“Learning the Healer’s Art” –Elaine Marshall

Can the concept of healing be put any more beautifully and accurately?  It has been on my mind recently that we can never use our own experiences to discredit anyone else’s pain, no matter how different the circumstances are.  We can only use our own experiences to help us mourn with those that mourn and try to aid them.  I don’t like when people do it to me, and so I’ve learned to watch my mouth in hopes that I don’t do it to anyone else.  Pain is pain, and the healing process is different for every person.  Discrediting their pain will not make ours subside at all, but helping others will heal us too.  

Sometimes our faith feels overshadowed by what our reality is around us.  Allow me to elaborate on why I felt like this recently.

In the past four months: I have lost a baby.  My fourth loss in a row.  My sister in law lost a baby. Three of my friends who are very dear to me lost babies.  For one of those friends, it was her second loss in a row.  One of my long time best friends almost lost her baby, but he survived with interventions.  A few months later they found out he has Spina Bifida.  She now has to travel several states away for an extremely specialized surgery while pregnant in hopes to give him the most normal life possible. A very close friend got a hold of me in the middle of the night, just recently, worried because she was bleeding early in her first trimester.  She was unsure if she would keep the baby through the night.  Especially because she miscarried her last baby (fortunately everything is fine now.) 

These are not just people I have met or stories I heard.  These are my friends and family.  The people closest to me.  When I hear of their heartache, my own despair sets in.  I stop believing in the idea of healthy babies- it just doesn't seem like a reality in my world sometimes.  I suppose it should make me comforted that I'm "not alone."  But losing children (or the hopes of future children) always feels lonely.  Because they are yours.  They aren't your friends' or even your family's children.  Not really.  They are yours.  No one is actually in the same circumstance as me, nor am I in the same circumstances as them.  However, what we do have in common is deep heartache and fear, and so, we need to learn to care for each other and find joy in our lives.  It still hits me hard though, every time I find out something else has happened to someone I am close to.  This past year has been unbelievable. How are any of us born alive? How are any of us born alive and HEALTHY??

I wish my faith was just a little stronger at times like this.  All the reminders trigger all of the horrible emotions I am fighting to get rid of.  There's only so much I can take before the skepticism and bad attitude sets in.  The bad attitude that causes bad reactions.  When someone tells you, "Didn't you hear that so-and-so just had a beautiful healthy baby?  5th child! And also the other-so-and-so, twins!" And you smile and nod but inside you just think "Yeah it's great to watch everyone else's dreams come true.  Thanks."  I know it's a bad attitude- I know it's full of fallacies.  It's ungrateful and narrow minded.  I know.  But it's still there. It doesn't really matter what circumstances are in your life- what matters is how you feel each day.  So when you feel miserable despite decent circumstances it makes it worse.  

Just when I was in the pit of despair, I had someone write me and tell me how much my experiences meant to them and that I had their full support.  Most of the letter was very personal.  It was spiritually reassuring to me.  In the letter, she said, “I just had this overwhelming feeling that I should tell you that you have support and prayers, that in your being open about your life you saved my friends life after she lost her baby.”  I felt so humbled.  I don't actually take credit for saving anyone's life, but I am so thankful to get some reassurance that I did in fact feel inspired to write this blog, and maybe in the long run, there are reasons for these trials after all.  Even in our heartache, helping others in any capacity we can will bring us peace.  I have learned so much by writing this blog.  I’ve learned about myself, and about the experiences of others who share.    

If I remembered more often how much Heavenly Father loves us, I think I would be happier.  As a teenager, I wrote in my journals probably an average of 2 hours a day.  It was really to the point of obsessive.  Yes, I got some good stories down, and yes I kind of want to burn them.  However, I really got comfortable with myself and my emotions, and I learned how to write about them freely.  I don’t want to overemphasize the importance or “far-reaching-effect” of this blog, but I feel that journaling may have been a big preparation for me to be able to write this blog- even if it was to connect with one person.  I've found people through it who have helped me, and I've been blessed to receive notice that my writings have helped some others too. 

It's not always easy to be open on the blog about the darker feelings and the sadness, and depression because every time I write about it, I feel like that part should be done already.  I feel like I should be stronger, and happier.  But I feel it is more important is to be honest.  Because if someone else is going through something and they need to know that it is ok, and normal.  That it’s going to be ok in the end, and it’s worth it.  If we can find strength in each other, it is worth it.  I'm sure not going to take all this time to document the things I have experienced just to sugar coat or tell white lies about how it really is.  I am trying to give an honest account.  I want to be honest with myself.  Honest for anyone who the blog may somehow, by the grace of God, be a help to.  It is difficult to watch the page view stats rise (almost to 3000 now!) and not feel judged in a bad way, but I put it out there because I feel that I'm called to do it.  I'm thankful for the healing I've found in it and the strength that writing with honesty has brought me. 

God does indeed have the power to save life.  So fundamental a concept- but seems "overruled" by what we feel is reality.  We read in the Bible of Christ raising the dead.  Surely, according to His will, He can save a little life inside my womb.  That is reality just as anything else is.

I do wish I felt excitement for life when I woke up in the morning, or at least jumped up for the chaos of the day.  Most of the time I feel very sad when I wake up in the mornings, and somewhat dread the day ahead of me. But I'm getting better, and I want to keep improving.  Jack is absolutely the light of my life.  My husband is a kind and loving support who I depend on 100% in my struggle.  I’m spending too much time feeling sorry for myself and feeling angry and discouraged when I should be focusing on how I can use this to improve my life, and more importantly, help other people.  Helping others heals so much of our hurt.  When we know we make a difference in the life of someone else, it feels like our own worries literally shrink away.  Why don’t I make more of an effort to really help someone’s wellbeing? 

What I’ve learned about healing is that helplessness is most painful of all.  It’s hard to give up control.  In some ways, I just wish there was some drastic treatment or experimental surgery I could do to try and save my babies.  It feels horrible to be totally helpless even when we know they aren’t growing properly and seemingly clueless as to how to help.  I just sit there and let the life die inside of me.  The thought of getting pregnant doesn’t sound exciting like it used to, because now it literally just sounds like death.  Sorrow.  Longing.  Mourning.  Never getting to name them.  Never experiencing the joy of holding your newborn.  Never introducing Jack as a big brother.  Four times those hopes have been crushed and the agony of even dreaming is too much anymore.  

Fortunately I sometimes glimpse what life is like without the bitterness.  The friend I mentioned earlier (who was bleeding) she’s not just a close friend, or even a best friend.  In almost every way she is my sister.  When I am continually trying to move on with my life, I deal with putting aside jealousy, bitterness, and depression every time I’m around a pregnancy at all.  Regardless of who that person is.  In that moment when she told me she was bleeding, every ounce of bitterness faded, and turned to anxiety and panic as if it were my own baby.  I couldn’t sleep.  I was praying for a miracle.  I would never wish recurrent miscarriage on anyone, but I especially don’t want my friends or family to suffer through it.  That baby is family to me.  Even though it hurts to wait on your own dreams, in the moment of worry I always want the dreams of others to come true.  That gives me some hope for myself.  Perhaps bitterness won’t overcome me after all.  I am so thankful that the baby is alive and everything is ok as of now.  I have a little picture of him or her on my phone- tiny with a new beating heart.  The child is a miracle and I plead for its life as I would plead for my own child.  I am learning empathy. 

We’re learning to make our goal of having another child a “long term goal” instead of a short term one.

I took another step forward this week.  My friend asked me if I could give most of Jack’s old clothes to her friend who was having twin boys (their first child was a girl so they were in need.)  Even though I don’t know this person, I didn’t feel the normal bitterness towards her.  I actually felt excited to help.  It’s been a secret heartache to have so many totes of infant items in storage.  It makes me sad to see them or move them.  I wonder if there is a point to hang on to all of it after all the losses we’ve had.  I decided to hold on to a handful of my favorites and clear out the rest.  Maybe I will be able to move on a little easier.  If we have another healthy baby in the future, our celebration will be so great that I don’t care if we had to buy all new things.  It wouldn’t matter at all.  This is an important step forward for me.  Helping others with excitement instead of hiding in my own pain.  I haven’t actually gone through the boxes yet so it may be harder than I know, but I will get through it and it will be healthy progress. 

“Do we dare hope for you, little one?
Do we dare dream of you, sweet baby?
Do we dare wish that we’ll hold you in our arms one day?
You are wanted.
You are loved.
And so we wait.
We wait and wish and pray.
Until you are ours someday.”

-Poem from “Souls on Ice”