Jesus holds both the anticipation and joy of what is to come, and also holds the grief of the reality in front of Him. We too, then, can weep over our infertility and live in anticipation of the joy of us pursuing adoption.
Grief and joy. Can these two really exist at the same time?
During the first year and a half of my husband and I's infertility, the grief and weight each month carried seemed to take up all the space in my heart. The closest I can describe it is a heavy sadness deep in my heart and a horribly sad grief in the pit of my stomach. I'm not sure that makes sense to anyone else, but it certainly was what my experience was. I felt like a failure.
It was as if there would never be any healing and it would hurt forever. Pain each time someone close to us became pregnant, pain each time I saw a mother with her young child in the park, pain each time I thought about the experience of pregnancy, labor and delivery was taken away from me each month. Pain when I saw over and over again how sad it made my sweet husband each time we found out yet again there was no pregnancy. Pain when someone would ask when we were having kids only to follow it up with a "well, you're too young anyway and have plenty of time to try later in life".
This is grief, like a stitches being ripped out repeatedly.
And presently, here we are, pursuing infant domestic adoption! Such joy and excitement fill our hearts when we complete yet another form or paperwork getting one step closer to our baby. Our hearts anticipate who our child will be and who they will become. We can't wait to hold our child for the first time. There is such joy now and ahead. My heart longs for this baby.
Yet, frustratingly I cannot vulnerably share our infertility story without breaking down into tears. I know we are adopting and what joy awaits us; but I can't shake this pain of our infertility. (I honestly sometimes feel a bit embarrassed that it causes so much tears. I'm a mess!)
And here's the thing we've learned; Adoption doesn't cure infertility.
And we can hold both the overwhelming joy and excitement of adoption in one hand, while holding the grief and sadness of our infertility in the other hand. Grief in one hand, joy in the other.
One doesn't lessen the story of the other. They occur on parallel story lines. And it's okay to cry when it hurts to recall the loss and grief of infertility because the pain is real.
I think back to John 11 when Jesus gets word that His friend Lazarus is sick and dying. He chooses to wait a few days before going to him. Jesus knows that His waiting will result in Lazarus' death, and that ultimately He knows this will bring much glory to God when He brings Lazarus back to life. He literally knows and holds the anticipation of what is to come; Lazarus back from the dead, and God is glorified! You would think this knowledge would send Him on His way to Lazarus' dead body brimming in positivity and optimism. He knows Lazarus will be back to life once He gets there! Yet, here's what stands out to me; when Jesus arrives at Lazarus' tomb, instead of smiling ear to ear in the joy of what to come, He stops. He weeps over the loss and death of His dearly loved friend (verse 35).
Can you see it, too? Jesus holds both the anticipation and joy of what is to come, and also holds the grief of the reality in front of Him. We too, then, can weep over our reality of infertility and both live in anticipation of the joy of us pursuing adoption to bring our child home.
Jesus' actions in this passage to me are so freeing and healing. There's no need to carry guilt and shame when it hurts to remember our infertility. It is reflective of Christ's heart to grieve our reality of infertility but greatly hope and be joyful for what is to come as we become adoptive parents.
We pray that you know this too. Your situation may be different; but Jesus models something important for all of us.
Grief and joy can exist together. And I'll say it one more time for the person in the back; one doesn't lessen the story of the other. They occur on parallel story lines. And it's okay to cry when it hurts to recall the loss and grief.
Grief of the reality in front of you, and joy of what is to come. Thank You, Jesus.
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