Grace, Hope, and Healing from Infertility {Guest Post}

This is a guest post from Ally. She contributes regularly to my blog, and you can read all her other posts here.

Grace, Hope, and Healing from Infertility

It hit me a few weeks ago.

I’d gone to church, as usual, and before the service, I’d noticed that a group of my friends had surrounded a lady I didn’t know well. The congratulations were flowing and circling her; her hand placed on her abdomen, a delighted yet shy smile lighting up her face.

Another pregnancy announced, and again, not mine.

I waited.

The punch-in-the-gut feeling would make me lose my breath any moment now.

And I waited some more.

The soul-deep despair, flushed face, doubts… none of it came.

I was… okay.

I got home after church, went right to my dresser, and opened the drawer where I’ve been keeping my husband’s “home from the hospital” onesie.

The now-antique infant outfit, gingham flannel print, was given to me by my sister-in-law. It was so characteristic of her to give me this special little garment- compassion and hope overshadowed the pain of not yet having a little one to wear it.

It never failed, though- my hand would hit that tiny blue softness, and I’d be overcome with longing.

So on this particular Sunday afternoon, I pulled it out. Tested it. Like pushing on a bruise.


No pain, no longing, no soul-deep sadness.

I’m okay.

And that terrifies me.

Because deep within me, all I really want is a baby of my own. I want that infant smell. I want to see my husband as a father (not only as a father figure, but as a biological, real-life, forever father).

I want to decide on names and paint a nursery and feel those secret kicks.

So why am I… okay? Why doesn’t my heart ache as much as it did?

I don’t want to heal. I don’t want to be okay.

That longing at least gave me some hope, you know? The pain somehow felt like God telling me, “Yeah, you’ve got this desire deep inside of you. I put it there. I know.”

Is being okay… does it mean that it just won’t ever happen? Is God taking away my desires? Is this like a warning or a sign or preparation for never having a child?

I don’t have any of those answers.

But one thing I do know is that God is in control, and He’s in the restoration business.

He’s healing me. He’s answering all those on-the-bathroom floor prayers of “Lord, this hurts!” and “God, please take away this pain!”

I don’t know what it means- that I’m healing after all these years. It may not mean anything.

But for now, I’m counting it as grace.

When I asked for Him to take away my pain, I didn’t really mean it like this. I meant, “Give me a baby so this doesn’t hurt,” not “take away the edge of my pain.”

But honestly, how often do the blessings in my life look the way I thought they would? Like never.

Instead of questioning, instead of being afraid of what this might mean, instead of being confused, I’m choosing joy. I’m choosing gratitude. 

I’m grateful that the pain has lessened, that the effects of this struggle in my life seem to be wearing way from my heart.

And that is enough for now.


If you’re looking for more encouragement during infertility, be sure to check out my book, 31 Days of Prayer During Infertility.

Image courtesy of UnSplash

  • Rebecca Davidson

    Awww, much love Ally <3 I'm sharing this, I know several people who will identify with it.

  • Kristy

    This was so powerful.

  • “How often do the blessings in my life look the way I thought they would?” Exactly. There’s so much truth to this. What a vulnerable post!

    • It’s been a hard lesson for me to learn… but I’m still working on it. Thank you for stopping by!

  • Beautiful post as always, Ally. 🙂

  • I love this. I’ve been trying to put these words together to explain this where people wouldn’t think I didn’t want a baby anymore. You said it perfectly, Ally. Thank you!