GOD's my island hideaway, keeps danger far from the shore,
throws garlands of hosannas around my neck.
(Psa 32:7 MSG)


"Life is pain, Highness..."

that's one of the most quoted phrases {i think} from the movie The Princess Bride. it also happens to be one of my all-time favorite movies.

and that one little phrase is oh-so-very true, wouldn't you agree?

my own "life is pain" issue has come to the fore of my mind once again--my seeming inability to conceive another child. i suppose it's due, in part, to the fact that my sister-in-law recently announced that their 6th baby is on the way. i am truly happy for them. it just happens to be a reminder of how much i've wanted more babies that God hasn't, for His {as-of-yet unknown} purposes, given us.

i do believe with my entire being that it was part of His divine plan for us to adopt. and we did! cj is a true member of our family...no matter that i didn't carry him in my womb or give birth to him. he is ours and we are his. but financially, another adoption {like cj's} is not an option for us right now. so my wanting another baby at this point is seemingly pointless unless i'm crazy or i believe in miracles. well, sometimes i do think i am crazy--or on my way there, but i don't think that's why i hope. my hope is in a God who has proven time and again to me that miracles can and do happen. but if i've learned one thing from the past 8+ years dealing with infertility, it's that having faith that God can, doesn't mean that He will.

it's now been over 10 years since i gave birth to bubba. i cherish the memories i have of my one and only pregnancy. i feel blessed, as an adoptive mom, to have a "birth story" to share with other moms. and yet, deep in my soul, is a place of agonizing pain. a place of grieving.

i still feel like Humpty Dumpty after he fell off the wall--all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put him together again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again!

in 2002, the attempt at having my fertility "put back together" began. i saw doctors and specialists, took a variety of different fertility meds, and endured 3 {or was it 4?} cycles of IUI. of course, i can't ignore the fact that my husband played a huge part in the attempt. it was his faith in God and his love and support of me {even at my worst, most emotional times} that got me through the many ups and downs.

despite all our efforts and wonderful intentions, God said "no."

to my prayer for another child-of-my-womb, that answer was the most painful thing i've ever experienced.

and the diagnosis? "unexplained secondary infertility."


that's right. there's no reason that they could find. i don't have any explanation to cling to or remind myself of when this terrible desire rears its ugly head up and roars {like it so often does}.

so i find myself still hoping. a hope which inevitably leads to more pain.

i remember when the RE {reproductive endocrinologist} told me at my last IUI, that if it didn't work, his only guess was that there might be a problem with my eggs. and only by going to the next, more costly option of IVF, could that be determined. T felt strongly against doing IVF {its too unnatural for him and i respect that he feels that way}. besides that, we had already spent as much as we could on medical doctors {and our insurance sure wouldn't cover it}, so we instead began the process to adopt that brought cj into our hearts and home.

now i suddenly find myself back on that same road i was walking so long ago. i hate this road. it's such a hard, rocky road, with hills so high they're like mountains and valleys that are like deep ravines you fall into. yet, here i am again. what happened to my nice paved path? it only had a few little bumps here and there, otherwise it was level and easy to travel along. where did it go? did i somehow make a wrong turn? nope. my easy path seems to have merged once again with this more difficult one and i've no choice but to go forward.

to hope.
to pray.
to be aware of God's presence with me.
to hurt and not be ashamed.
to cry.
to love.


  1. Hugs to you, Steph. I walked that road of "unexplained infertility" before Luc was conceived. One of the most difficult things I've experienced.

  2. I'm so sorry to hear that you are revisiting this road.

    I find it interesting that this morning my Bible reading was the story of Hannah (I Sam 1), and when I went online I saw your post. Keep your hope in the God of miracles. I know he has a plan for your family. He will reveal it in his time, not ours.

    I know that you know this. I wish I could provide more comfort.


  3. Thanks for the words of encouragement. I know this: God is good, all the time!

    When I wrote this out yesterday, I was feeling that I needed to express in words some of what I've dealt with over the past 10 years. I hope that it might help those whose fertility isn't a problem to understand better what it's like to live with infertility. And by writing about it and sharing my heart a little here, I think it has helped me work through a little of the pain and longing I feel.


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