I’ve always been pretty good at not getting up and leaving in the middle of church meetings, so as to not disrupt the Spirit and others. However, last fast Sunday, I could hardly stay sitting on the bench. With my husband on the stand, I sat alone listening to the beautiful baby blessings that were offered, one after another after another. Fathers participated in the incredible opportunity to bless their babies with a name, to be watched over, and to someday marry in the temple. Mothers and fathers and grandparents then proceeded to offer heart-felt testimonies regarding their new child and how incredible it feels to be a new parent. My heart literally ached, ached. I just wanted to leave, my body and spirit sinking deep into misery and hopelessness. I put my head in my hands and tried my best to block out the noise and the image of the baby blessing dress I had tucked away in the back of our spare bedroom closet.
The list of expecting mothers in our ward keeps getting
longer and longer and the hole in my heart seems to just be getting larger and
larger. After finding out about one pregnancy in particular, I came home and
felt lost and completely confused. I attempted to walk upstairs to change, but
the climb to my room was just too difficult. I gripped the hand rail, and with
my chin to my chest, sobbed. Someone, please someone, tell me why this is so
hard?!
When someone blesses their baby or announces they are
pregnant, it is not the specific person or couple I am angry at. Everyone is
entitled to have a family whenever and however they choose. But announcements
and blessings come as regular reminders to me of what I want so dearly and
don’t have, and that’s what makes me angry, sad, and heartbroken. My Facebook
is flooded with pregnancy announcements, gender reveals, newborns, and toddlers
crawling, walking, crying, laughing and sitting on Santa’s lap. Constant, consistent
reminders.
The other night, my husband and I went to a small group
“party” celebrating the end of one of his classes. It consisted of mostly of
men, so I felt safe, knowing (hoping) that the conversations would be mostly of
video games, dirt bike riding and food. My hopes were shot. Husbands were
asking other husbands when their wives were due, how crazy it is to see their
baby moving in the woman’s body, or if they had found out if it was a boy or
girl and how they paid extra money to find out the gender early. As my stomach
sunk, I looked over at Coulton and he immediately brought something else up, as
he pushed his own longing and pain aside. There is no safe ground, only
consistent reminders.
A few weeks back, I spoke to a new grandma. We spoke of the
brand new baby and how excited she was to be a grandma. She then asked how long
Coulton and I had been married. I told her 3 ½ years. She then asked if we had
any children, and I humbly told her no. She then asked, “Oh, so you guys are
waiting a while to have children then?” Constant reminders.
During our Sacrament meeting Christmas program, a member of
the Stake Presidency spoke of the sweetness and innocence of babies and
children. He spoke of Baby Jesus and how He had to be taught by His parents. He
spoke of how precious little ones are and how we are to care for and love them.
Consistent reminders.
I just recently found out a friend in my ward experienced a miscarriage
a few months back. Not ever going through that myself and only having an inkling
of an idea of what she was going through, my heart went out to her. As we sat
in her car talking about the experience, she said something that I couldn’t
agree with more. She told me that after she lost her baby, people had good
intentions and told her that she would have her baby in the next life, families
are eternal, other babies would come, and that Heavenly Father still loved her.
She knew all of this was true, but she was mad and upset, and she wanted people
to let her be mad and upset. That is how I am feeling throughout this post. My
testimony of the love of my Heavenly Father and the reality of eternal families
has not been shaken. I am so grateful for my husband and the gospel in my life.
But for now, I just want to be upset because it absolutely and completely sucks
that it is nearly impossible for me to fulfill a righteous desire, when so many
around me have been blessed, some multiple times. So until my next dosage of hope comes, I am going to be angry and cry until there are no
tears left.
