Scarcity

Infertility is a barren wasteland. Nothing grows. Nothing can be cultivated. It is cracked, empty, and oh-so-lonely.

I never expected to face infertility, to find myself in this desert where, so far, a baby is a mirage instead of a miracle. I wasn't prepared to endure this climate or face this terrain. I have become a person in lack, and at times that has made me desperate, selfish, even callous. Infertility made me believe the lie of scarcity.

What is that lie? That there is not enough to go around.

Too often we are consumed with the idea that someone else's win is our loss. We believe that if someone else is finding success that there won't be any left for us. Our only goal is to win, to beat them, to get there first.

I don't think I ever consciously believed that another woman's pregnancy meant there was less possibility for my own. But there was some deep-seated fear about seeing other women, seeing my friends pass me by. They were able to get pregnant so easily. Sometimes by surprise - I couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. Some had already moved on to their second, third, fourth children before I even had one! Being left behind made me feel so ashamed. It also made me feel incredibly jealous. Pregnancy announcements would send me into a spiral because I wanted desperately to have what they had. It isn't fair! Why God? Why am I the one stranded in this desert?! I didn't like the person infertility was turning me into, the way it was robbing me of joy.

Then I stumbled across some wisdom and found myself opening my arid heart to it. It was the cool drink of water I needed to slake this unending thirst for what I lacked.

"Her success is not my failure."

Even as I read those words I could feel the sand coating my mouth, the sweat on my skin, the exhaustion of this journey weighing on my shoulders... and I realized that I had added to that weight myself. I bought into the lie that I was failing just because others were finding success. Her pregnancy is not my pregnancy the same way her baby is not my baby. She is not carrying the child I am waiting for. Her motherhood is not an attack on my infertility. Or even my potential to join the motherhood club one of these days. Her success is not my failure.

Anyone else struggle with that? Maybe it isn't motherhood. Maybe it's her job promotion, her marriage, her social media following, her talent and skills. What if we could flip those feelings of scarcity and believe that her success is just showing us the way? Her wins are demonstrating that it can be done! And I bet that her success was more hard won than we know. So, what if we chose to cheer her on and feel encouraged instead? What if we could stop comparing our journey to hers? What if we believed there was room for all of us to succeed? I think it would make all the difference.

I am still trekking through infertility, and it still isn't easy. But I am done believing her success means that I have failed. Maybe I haven't been able to leave the desert behind, but I'm starting to see bits of green breaking through the earth. Now, when the heat is too much to handle, I take that soothing sip of water. I blink the grit out of my eyes and purposefully choose to lift up my incredible friends in the throes of motherhood. Then I let them be a hopeful reflection of my own someday success.

This post was written more than a year ago and never shared. It’s amazing to see the difference time and Jesus make. I’m not always proud of how I’ve faced this infertility journey, but I am proud of the growing I’ve done. Even as I’ve moved forward from a lot of these dry, bitter feelings that so often overwhelmed me… I still find the value in this. In where I’ve been. And maybe it’s where someone else is right in this moment. So, this is for you. No shame. You are strong, you can do this. There is more than enough sunshine to go around, my friend. I believe it. You blue skies are coming.