My mood shifted negatively as I turned the calendar over from October to November. How can I feel positive knowing that date is just a few days away?
That date is November 9; forever etched as a scar on my belly. That spot where the majority of women, deserving and non-deserving, usually have stretch marks from the precious life that grew inside of them for 9 months.
November 9, 1992. Sure, I can give you definitions for words such as barren and infertile, but it is the emotional experience that cannot be defined or explained. My infertility was unexpected and it felt like my “dirty little secret” because nobody understood the pain I was going through, so I kept it to myself. I was hesitant to share my story with the members of a web-based support group called ChildlessNotByChoice which, by the grace of God, I found while surfing in 2002. For the past ten years, with the help of this website, I have been slowly making peace with infertility.
I was raised in a Christian home and attended private schools and I thought I knew God. However, I have begun to sit a the foot of the cross naming and claiming the pain of infertility. From somewhere deep inside me, that place invisible to any high-powered MRI machine, I scream out to God telling Him how unfruitful and unproductive my life feels. Then God takes His hand to my chin, lifts up my face to meet His, gently wipes the tears from my eyes and says, “Kristine, that’s it! Now we can begin.”
Isaiah 43:10-11 New Living Translation (NLT)
“But you are my witnesses, O Israel!” says the Lord. “You are my servant. You have been chosen to know me, believe in me, and understand that I alone am God. There is no other God—there never has been, and there never will be. I, yes I, am the Lord, and there is no other Savior.