Advocating for the Infertile: How Then Shall We Celebrate Mother's Day?

Mother's Day. There's no getting around it. It's a hard day for many people. It's difficult for those who have lost their mothers, and for those whose mothers were absent, abusive, or otherwise not great parents. It's difficult for those who have lost children, including those who have had miscarriages and carry a grief that others may not know about. It's hard for those who are far from family and long to celebrate their mothers and grandmothers. It's also very hard for those of us who long to be mothers, but for various reasons are not. That leaves me struggling with what to do with this day. Should I hole up in my house, making calls to my various mother-figures while otherwise pretending the day doesn't exist? Should I put on a brave face and act like I don't care?

This is the third year in a row in which I approach Mother's Day with the desperate prayer in my heart that next year I'll be able to celebrate, that it will be my last year not being a mother. It's easy to want to hide. All week, store displays, radio ads, television, and of course, other people have reminded me that this day is coming. I'm forced to celebrate the wonderful, selfless, giving people that mothers are, and I struggle with wanting to scream that not all mothers are selfless and giving, that many childless women (and men) are selfless too, that this binary way of looking at procreation hurts us all. So do I stay at home, angry at society for perpetuating this myth of the perfect mother whom all women should aspire to be?

It's easy to want to stay away. Many infertile women avoid church on days like today, when we know we'll end up watching our more fertile counterparts be feted while we wipe tears from our eyes. However, I chose to go. I chose to not give up meeting with my brothers and sisters, both because I know my heart needs community, and I know that community needs me. As hard as it is, as painful as it may be, the church and society need to see me too, to know that there are other kinds of women around who have needs and deserve to be supported and honoured too, even if it's not on this day. If I choose to stay away and hide my pain from them, how then can I complain that they aren't there alongside me?

So I went. I did church on Mother's Day. There were tears, and I had to leave for a few minutes, and it hurt, but I was glad. (The sermon had a Jane Austen reference too, so there was that!) As hard as it is to be a non-mother on Mother's Day, today has also been a day of joy, in which I have been so blessed by others who have seen and loved me in my pain. It's been a hard day, but a beautiful day, and I am glad I took part.

This past week marked the end of my study of the life of Moses, which we began in September. I am especially mindful of what a long and difficult journey he and the Israelites had. I was reminded this week of how when Jews celebrate the Passover, they end with the phrase, "Next year in Jerusalem," which in the darkest and and most difficult days expressed the hope of the Promised Land, the return. It is hard to find light and hope when you're traveling through the desert, and it's easy to feel it especially dark on days like today, but to my friends in this hard journey, I say, "Next year in Jerusalem." I hope that this is the last year in the dark for you and me, but if not, I wish you hope for the journey.

Advocating for the Infertile: When Church Hurts

I don't know about others, but I have a hard time talking about my infertility, and I suspect I'm not alone. It's personal. It's painful. It's somehow an invitation for unsolicited advice and pat answers. Yet.... if no one talks about infertility, it remains taboo. If no one talks about it, how can I expect others to become comfortable with the subject. I'm torn at how to respect my own privacy and yet open the doors to conversation, but I'm hoping to write a few posts on the topic and see where it goes.

I had an awful time at church yesterday. For the past few months, crying at church has become the new normal. I get in there and start singing, and the waterworks just flow. "Because He Lives" is the absolute worst. When the second verse starts up with, "How sweet to hold a newborn baby," there is just no stopping the tears. Up until now, however, I've managed to hold myself together, at least a little. I've never had to physically leave. Yesterday was a turning point, and the worst part of it was, it did not have to be this way.

We've been going through this prayer guide for Lent, and every Sunday a few members of the staff go up and lead prayer on that day's topic. Yesterday's topic was children. There were three men on the platform and they invited a friend of mine, a staff member and the mother of a toddler, to come up and join them. The last words I heard was, "Because there's something so special about the heart of a mother," and then, without thinking, I stood up, left Gil sitting on the pew, and hightailed it to the washroom. I wept in the stall for a few minutes, thought I was done, went out to the lobby and just couldn't hold it together. Both my boss and our custodian saw me wailing. Not my finest moment.

The thing is, I don't expect everyone to constantly watch their words because there may be an infertile person among us. I really don't. This is church, however. It's supposed to be the refuge for the heavy-hearted, the place I go to for comfort, not a place that drives me towards needing comfort. Why is it necessary to talk about the "heart of a mother", as though only mothers have compassionate hearts?

Eventually, I went back in, sat through the sermon, and went home to grumble to my husband. Typically, I would have stopped there, but I didn't want to. Why? Because people need to know that their word choice hurts. People have to understand that glorification of motherhood in the church is deeply painful for childless women and men... not to mention those who are longing to marry, those with difficult relationships with their parents, those who have given up a child to adoption, etc., etc. It's not okay to just brush past it. So I did what I could: I wrote a firmly-worded comment to the church, letting them know that this kind of word choice is hurtful and alienating. We'll see where it goes, but I'm glad I took a moment to stand up for the infertile among us. Someone needs to speak for us. Maybe that person is me.

True Love...

We had a guest speaker at church to give the sermon today. He spoke about healing in marriage, and he made one statement that really stood out to me: “True love is defined when you're hurt.”

It's easy to love your spouse when things are going well, when he's just suggested going out to dinner so neither of you has to cook, when she's woken up early to make you coffee before work, etc. Those are the moments when you post, “I have the BEST husband” as your facebook status. It's harder to be loving when your spouse has hurt you, or even when you're feeling hurt by someone else. That is when you are tempted to retreat or react, rather than responding with love. Husbands are called to love their wives EVEN when they're being unloving, and wives are called to respect their husbands EVEN when they're making mistakes that could cause our respect to dwindle.  True love chooses to love and respect, even when the temptation is not to.

These aren't earth-shattering or brand new ideas, but I guess it cemented something I already knew and have experienced. A few months after Gil and I started dating, I remember being really really angry at him about something. He was driving in from Toronto, and I was fuming while I waited for him to arrive, imagining all the things I would say to him when he finally got there. All of a sudden, I was struck by the fact that it was later in the evening and he likely hadn't eaten dinner... and maybe lunch as well. I fought with myself, knowing I should make something for him to eat, but not wanting to because I was so mad. In the end, I boiled some frozen Chinese dumplings, and in the end, I basically handed him the bowl when he arrived, right before I told him all the reasons I was upset. Needless to say, he was a bit perplexed! Still, I think it helped him realized that even though I was angry, I still cared about him deeply. Unfortunately, there have been many other angry moments, when I definitely have not been that loving.

On that note, it's official that I will start out my marriage book reading with Timothy and Cathy Keller's The Meaning of Marriage. It's on hold for me at the library and should be available soon. I'm looking forward to reading it and posting some of my thoughts. Thanks to everyone who voted!

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. 

 Romans 12:17-21

Why I Love My Job

For about four months now, I have worked as a part-time church receptionist.  It's not glamorous or exciting.  Many people have expressed surprise that I am working at a job so "beneath" my education and work experience, but in general I like my job and find that it has its own challenges.

The past few days have been really hectic.  I was transitioning back after a fantastic week of relaxing, and we have been busy with Christmas concert ticket sales, not to mention IT issues.  It is easy to get bogged down with these little headaches and forget what I love about this job, but the past 24 hours have reminded me.

Last evening I had a great conversation with a woman who had basically walked in off the street to ask some spiritual questions.  I don't want to share her personal details, but it was soooo interesting how even though we are very different, through my education I understood a lot about where she was coming from, and I was able to use some of what I learned in university to relate to her.

Yesterday a couple came into the church in preparation for their wedding today.  They wanted to set up decorations, but were short of ideas on what things should look like.  It was beautiful to see two of our employees take some time out of their busy workday to give suggestions.  The decorations could not go up yesterday, so my colleague and I came in to assist this afternoon.  I got to spend a few hours of my Saturday chatting with the couple's two friends, practicing my Mandarin (they are from China), and helping make a multipurpose room look pretty for the wedding.  Even though I don't have much of an eye for decor, it was fun and I never would have had this opportunity if I hadn't been on the reception desk.

In sum, it's easy to look at education as an X --> Y result, like if you study engineering, you become an engineer, etc.; in my experience, however, the things that you learn in school come back to help you in ways you'd never expect, and even if you don't work "in your field", you'll find ways to use your education and be stretched!

A Great Day

Last Sunday was a great day.  Our church was having a ministry fair after both services that morning.  As I mentioned last week, I've started serving with the youth ministry, so I volunteered to help at the youth display.  Gil was on-call, so he was out of the house super-early anyway.  Helping out was fun, and I got to know our youth pastor and some other volunteers a bit better.

After the second service, I ran into someone I know from prayer group.  We are among the only younger ladies who attend.  She mentioned that she would be going to a potluck lunch and she had wanted to invite me, but did not have my number or phone number.  I got the information and drove out to the potluck.  It was a fun afternoon, with some games and just chatting with new people.  I left a bit early to head home before a family birthday dinner that evening.

Why am I telling you all these boring details?  Why was this such a great day?  It's not like the potluck games were the most fun I'd ever played, or the ministry fair was amazing.  The great thing about Sunday was that for the first time in nearly a year, it felt a bit like my Ottawa life.  It felt as though I was part of the church rather than someone who just shows up on Sundays.  It felt like I was making friends rather than just shaking hands with strangers at the service.  I love Gil, and I love my life with him, but it felt like I finally had a Toronto life outside of my marriage, and that felt soooo good.

Interestingly, this past week at my Bible study, we were talking about Genesis 2.  One of the leader's comments was something like, "Can we trust God to put the right relationship in our life at the right time?"  The immediate context was, of course, Adam and Eve, but it is so applicable in other areas of life as well.  It felt like I waited a looooooong time for my husband to come into the picture, but when he did, he was worth the wait.  Likewise, I feel like I've been waiting a long time to make friends at our church, but I have faith that God has been using this lonely time in my life to develop me.  Can't wait to see what He does in these new friendships over the next stage of my life!

I ♥ Youth Ministry

I am super-super excited to announce that after nearly a year of floundering at church, I have finally stepped back into regular Christian service:  I just signed on to work with our youth group for the 2012-13 school year.... and I am sooooo excited about it!

For those of you who know you, this probably isn't much of a surprise.  I was involved with youth for quite a while back in Ottawa, but somehow, whenever the thought of doing the same in Toronto came up, I hesitated.  After we got married, there were so many transitions going on, that I needed to stop and really process it all.  Not only that, but I needed to almost distance myself from my old youth group that I loved so very much, to ensure that I wouldn't be that annoying girl who constantly says, "Well, in my OLD group, we did X like THIS..." [The previous comment would possibly be  accompanied by an obviously dissatisifed expression.]

This summer, however, I started working at the church and getting to know the various ministries, and I felt the pull back towards youth ministry.  Last week I finally got to talk to our new youth pastor, and he invited me to check out the group.  When I walked into the room, even though I didn't know the kids or most of the volunteers, I felt like I was coming home, back to a ministry I love, back to an age group I love.  There are lots of people who enjoy teaching Sunday school and working with little kids, but as for me, put me in a room full of awkward or surly teens, and my heart fills up. I ♥

teenagers!

Learning to be Slow

Once upon a time, there was a lady who never slowed down. She felt the need to be busy all the time. Between work, church, friendships, and exercise, she fell exhausted into bed most nights, and slept just enough hours to give her the energy to do it all again. One day, she married her Prince Charming who moved her to a new place where her life slowed down... and now she is learning to love the slow.

Of course, this lady is me. When I think about my life over the last few years (okay, probably more like 15 years...), I feel tired. During my time in Ottawa, it was not unusual for me to be busy every evening of the week, and that is after waking up at 6:00am and working a full day. My life was full of Bible studies, youth group, ladies missionary fellowship, girls' nights, etc. Meeting Gil made things even crazier: Now I was up even later talking on the phone with my long distance boyfriend, and going to Toronto on weekends to see him. (We're not even going to talk about how my housework suffered....) And yet, I didn't hesitate to add new things to the mix, like running a half-marathon or taking night-school Mandarin. Many evenings, I prayed to God to “please multiply these few hours of sleep ahead so that they are enough to get me through tomorrow.”

Why did I do it? In truth, I've always liked to be busy. Even in high school, my parents warned me about over-extending myself. In university, I ended up with bronchitis after a particularly difficult semester in which I took an extra class and was involved in marching band, German theatre, and a dance show; when I came down with a bad cold, I refused to take time to rest and just got sicker and sicker. There are probably lots of reasons for the chronic busyness: I have always liked to make the most out of things, so if it comes down to German theatre group or more sleep, I'll choose the theatre, because who knows when I'll get the former opportunity again. (The answer would be never, unfortunately!) In Ottawa, I often kept busy because I hated being home alone in the evenings. I value deep relationships and I wasn't content to have my main personal interactions be in a work context. Of course, then the church dynamic comes into play: If you are a person who serves at church, you will almost certainly be asked to serve in other areas. If you are unmarried and childless, as I was, you often feel like you can't say no to these requests, because it's not like you need “family time”, right? Once in a while, I had glimpses of the insanity of my lifestyle when I would get sick and actually be thankful for the time to rest. After recuperating for a day or two, however, I was ready to jump back into the craziness with no intention to slow down.

Until I got married, I had no idea how exhausted I was from this busy cycle. For the first few weeks, I was sleeping for hours after Gil had left for work. My body needed to catch up on years of bad sleeping habits. At first, I didn't know how I would cope with the slower pace of not working, but it started to come naturally: I could do things that I'd always enjoyed doing, like working out mid-day and studying Mandarin, without feeling guilty. I could enjoy my coffee in the morning without feeling rushed. I could clean the house before it started looking like a disaster area.

Last weekend, I found myself choosing the slow, and not taking on the guilt of being idle. On Sunday, I was supposed to go to a barbecue organized by my Chinese school. My plan was to wake up earlier than usual, attend the first service at my church, and go straight to the park to meet my teacher and co. All the plans went to naught, however, because I woke up way too late to make it to church for 9:15. I was about to give way to guilt, to skip church and head to the barbecue because I had told my teacher I would be there but then it hit me: I have a choice. I can choose to act out of duty, or I can choose to prioritize church and time with my husband. Okay, so I felt a bit bad because I had RSVPed yes, but in the end, choosing the slow day of a late sushi lunch after church and watching Olympics with my husband was the best choice. I'm realizing that these first months/years together will fly by, and one day babies will come and add a new craziness to our lives, so we had best enjoy the slow while we can.