I'll be honest. Being infertile is no fun. *shocker* There are days, though, when I don't really mind it. There are some days, where I really am 100% grateful that it is one of my trials. I have grown to appreciate the blessings that come from it. Then there are days like Sunday. Sunday SSSSSS-TUNK. The morning was actually quite wonderful. We hit up a missionary farewell for one of my best friends, spent the morning relaxed before church. I took my time getting ready and even had time to can a batch of fresh raspberry jam from the berries we picked last week. [pictures are currently stuck on the camera. yuck.] Sacrament meeting was uneventful. Sunday School was spent talking to this girl [who I love dearly.] Then I meandered across the church to Relief Society. We had our opening song/prayer/announcements and then the "good news minute." [Yes, they still do that.] It's basically a minute where you can raise your hand and share any good news you have. Quite often it is so-and-so had a baby. I'm going to have a baby, and or I got married 2 weeks ago. I chose to share that C and I dressed up as Avatars on Friday and spent a few hours livening up the library on BYU campus as well as scaring some freshman boys out of their shorts.
Thus began the lesson on, *eep* Parenting. Now, one of my very good friends asked me a while ago what I thought of Conference Talks that mention how we're supposed to come to this earth, get married, and have a family, because C and I have such a hard time accomplishing the 3rd part of that commandment. My response is always, "Well, I completely agree with them. We will have a family. I don't know how my babies will get here, but they will get here." This lesson was quite different. The teacher happens to be a girl who just announced that she's pregnant. [I also have to mention here that I have had wonderful conversations with this girl. I really enjoy her company and think the absolute best of her. It is, though, extremely difficult sometimes to see others get exactly what you so desperately want and are praying/fasting/etc. for. It is also extremely difficult to see their absolute elation. I do understand that such elation also inhibits your ability to recognize the pain of others. I compare it to getting engaged and ticking off all your single friends by talking non-stop about your wonderful fiance/wedding plans/flashing your ring around/etc. which I am totally guilty of.]
Throughout the lesson, other sisters chimed in with their comments. The point that kept being driven home was that "Children are the reason for EVERYTHING we do. They are the motivation for living the gospel, for establishing good communication with your spouse, for following the prophet, for keeping the commandments etc." Then, the comments turned into a "my-cute-kid-did-the-cutest-thing-the-other-day" try-to-top-that competition. It hurt. Bad. I found myself in a bit of a panic.
I've promised myself, C, and our children that will always remain faithful through this trial, but oh how terribly I wanted to walk out. That's never been a temptation for me before. I just turned my eyes to the floor and debated saying anything. It was basically the "last call for comments" and I raised my hand. This is what came out of my mouth [as best as I can remember it]: "I've been debating sharing my comment for the entire lesson because I'm not quite sure how it will be taken, but it is extremely important to me and I feel like it needs to be said. I believe it is vital that every single one of us remembers that our children are not the only motivation for living the way that we do. *voice shakes-tears are comin'* There are some of us, besides just me, who are going to have to fight very hard to get their children here, some will have to wait until they are mothers in Zion. Yes, we will be mothers, but it will most likely take a lot longer than anyone is anticipating. If we wait until we have someone to be an "example" for, we're going to be in a rut for a very long time. We have family night because we are commanded to. We have a food storage because we are commanded to. We build strong marriages because we are commanded to. We foster a righteous spirit in our home because we are commanded to. Not to be an example to our children."
Every eye in the room was on me. I know they knew who was speaking. The teacher closed her lesson, I choked through the closing song, and started to pack up my things. Not a single sister-not even the ones sitting right next to me-said a word to me. I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt and not say that they avoided/ignored me, but I'm pretty sure that's what happened. I went to the foyer to wait for C to take me home so I could appropriately lose it.
C didn't come. [He had a meeting that I'd forgotten about.]
One sister approached me and the following conversation happened: "I'm really grateful for the comment you made."
Me: "Thanks."
Her: "It's ok if you're not ready to be a mother."
Me: (slightly more intense tone now) No. It's not that. My husband's and my bodies don't physically work they way they need to in order to make that happen. We're in the middle of fertility treatments right now. If it was as simple as wanting a baby, we'd have a 1-year-old right now.
Her: Oh! Have you tried raspberry leaf tea yet?
Me: We're a little past tea, sister ___.
Her: Is it you or him?
Me: It is US. We are married. It will always be US.
Her: Well, I'll tell you a story to make you feel better. My friend adopted a baby and then 25 years later, the MONTH she was baptized into the church, she got pregnant. At age 45!
Me: Thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better. [Thinking: so, 24 years to go. And I just have to leave the church and get baptized again. Easy peasy.]
And then C swooped in and took me home.
Love. That. Man.
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