contrived casualness: “H-m-m-m, I’m not opposed to it.” Steve proposed six months later, and we married two months after my twenty-first birthday.
When only groaning would do, the Spirit interceded (Rom 8:26), but every now and then, He let me do it for her. I never knew a more sacred trust.
We wanted time to ourselves before kids, so I took contraceptives. I investigated the different “pills” to ensure we prevented conception, rather than aborting it. We pulled the goalie after two years, never having considered not fielding one.
Eighteen months into infertility, Kim said something I’ll never forget: “I thank God for this—it’s growing me closer to Him and teaching me to depend on Him.”
BLESSING ON DEMAND (Steve)
We both wanted children. I think we assumed Amazon would hand-deliver them on request. So, two years in, we closed our eyes, held hands, and placed an order. But, somehow, our requisition got lost. It turns out prayer doesn’t work like rubbing an antique Arabian lamp. “Children are a blessing and a gift from the Lord” (Ps 127:3, cev). We knew that, but no one challenged us to leave the timetable up to Him. I waited long enough for “the wife of my youth.” Parenting could also wait. So we planned our course. But God established different steps (Prov 16:9).
BEGGING FOR BABIES (Kim)
When you pull the goalie, sooner or later, someone scores. Except sometimes no one does. Players and fans alike go home empty-handed. I tried not to get excited each month when I checked the scoreboard, but it proved impossible. The timer screeched. The strip shrieked. And my heart spiraled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. We tried to conceive for a year before consulting a doctor. I had turned twenty-three, so we had plenty of time. He tested the basics. Nothing showed up so we saw a specialist. I had needles and instruments jabbed into me for weeks. Lab rats get a little wheel to run out their frustrations; I had to cry mine away. Steve has average swimmers and my ovaries played coy, but the specialist said the stars could still align. I took Clomid to regulate my fickle cycle, but in Australia, professional standards limit its use to twelve months. A year later—still no baby.
HUSBANDS, LOVE YOUR WIVES (Steve)
We talked early about not idolizing kids. I learned my lesson waiting for Kim. Somehow, I knew she had enrolled in the same course. God commissions husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church (Eph 5:25). We talked. We cried. We even laughed. Sometimes, I just held Kim. We also prayed, asking for kids and for grace to keep walking—with or without tiny feet alongside us. Sometimes she prayed. Sometimes I prayed for both of us.
HEARTS PLAY CATCH-UP (Kim)
My heart struggles to own those words. I want to “be transformed by the renewing of [my] mind,” not conformed to this world (Rom 12:2). That means my heart must follow my beliefs—not determine them. I have to remind myself that God, not His gifts, brings life ( John 17:3). My heart slips away at times though—“deceitful above all things” ( Jer 17:9). Occasionally, it hijacks me, and I have to talk it down with biblical truth. I married a good negotiator— that helps. “Hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Prov 13:12). Mine grew sicker every month. It took us a while to identify the sickness as grief. Every month brought the prospect of a baby, the conception of new hope. And every month, when baby didn’t come, hope miscarried—sometimes stillborn. I got trapped on a macabre roller coaster, wrenched between unquenchable hope and undiagnosed grief.
Paul speaks of singleness as a gift, the
same kind of gift as infertility—one few ask for but many receive. The gift lies in the opportunity. When we lose someone precious, it has a certain finality to it. We can grieve. We can let go. How do we grieve someone precious who exists only in our hearts? And how do we let go of the baby we might have next month? The losses existed—even if the baby did not. Each month smuggled a little more grief into our lives, sabotaging them with subtle espionage. Every time we discussed the future, my tension and grief seeped into the room. Steve skipped seamlessly between possible future worlds, and I froze like a deer in his starship headlights—trapped nine months behind him in every one of them. How can we plan for the future when we lack the key ingredient?
STOP GIVING ME GRIEF (Steve)
I stayed busy living. Kim got stuck waiting. I would ask Kim what she thought of this idea or that plan, and she would hesitate. Sometimes I knew why. Sometimes I didn’t. What if we get pregnant?
VOICE.DT S .E DU /M AG A Z IN E DA L LA S TH E O LO G ICA L SE MI N ARY
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