When the months went by without a positive pregnancy test, I didn't think much of it. A small delay – out of the ordinary, but nothing to worry about… right? But months turned into a year, and a year into a miscarriage, a miscarriage into two. Suddenly, what seemed so plain and simple became neither simple nor plain.
We assume an experience like this – secondary infertility – is inaccessible to single women. They can't relate, we marrieds think. But what if they can?
When the months went by without a single good date (or any date at all), you didn't think much of it. A small delay – nothing to worry about, you're young yet!… right? But months turned into a year, and a year into another, and then it was year after year of Thanksgiving and Christmas questions, unwelcome and uncalled for. What seemed so plain and simple – finding a godly spouse – became neither simple nor plain.
True, the context is different. The season, setting, and lifestyle aren't the same. But both are on a path they didn't plan for; both are traveling with a map that keeps changing.
Sometimes we get caught in a game of comparative grief. We silence our stories because “she has it so much harder”, forgetting what Melissa said: “The experiences we have… are for healthy commiseration.” What if, instead of separating by “season”, we saw our seasons in light of the ties that bind us together? What if we have more in common than we think?
This is not the path I planned to walk, but I am not alone in walking it. I am with:
- My friend walking a path of singleness with faith and strength, building a life for herself rather than waiting in the wings.
- My friend walking a path of pain with an adult child, praying for their salvation and turning.
- My friend walking a path of patience as she works a job she doesn't like while building a new home and future for her family.
- My friend walking a path of restoration as she finds her way after an unwanted divorce.
- My friend walking a path of uncertainty as she navigates tough questions in her marriage and finds the help she needs.
Our paths look different on the outside, but on the inside, they're just grief – repackaged, re-formed, grief. And grief is something we can help each other bear.
This is not the path I'd choose, but it's the path I'm on. On it I still have choices: the choice to trust God's love and goodness or to trust my own wisdom. I choose to trust His goodness. Sometimes His goodness is made most visible through the lives of those around me; faithful people choosing to trust Him with their pain, too.
When your path is neither simple nor plain, the Enemy wants you to assume isolation. He wants you to believe you're the only one suffering as much as you do. He wants you to either minimize or magnify your grief: Minimize by comparing to others and assuming they suffer more, or magnify by comparing to others and assuming they suffer less.
Defeat them both. Don't compare; commiserate.
Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Gal. 6:2
