Infertility: The Silent Cry

By Charliese Lewis, President

Robert and Charliese Lewis Ministries Home of The 'After Church' Experience www.randclewisministries.com

Since the beginning of time in Genesis, the man and the woman are charged to be fruitful and to multiply. But what happens when the quest to be fruitful and to multiply results in the diagnosis or outcome of infertility? When childbearing seems out of reach in the natural? the altar weeping like Hannah. I often thought that I just wasn't worthy.

Infertility is defined as not being able to get pregnant (conceive) after one year (or longer) after actively trying through unprotected intercourse.

Several stories exist in the Bible about women who were barren - Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Hannah, just to name a few. To be barren in those times was to be looked upon in society as a despised woman.

Many women suffer physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual challenges when fighting the battle of infertility.

In From the Test to the Testimony: An Anthology of Women’s Faith Stories my contribution, “And a Happy New Year,” was just a piece of my journey to motherhood. The road was not easy. The answer to my prayer came differently than my request. The big question came during my quiet moments in my personal prayer closet.

But let's not leave the men out of the discussion because conceiving a child isn't the sole responsibility of the woman. Yet, still, women often seem to carry the burden.

As a Christian woman and a wife who has felt the sting of infertility and cried tears silently, we still don't talk about infertility enough, particularly from a spiritual lens, and its impact on faith. After the many failed attempts at pregnancy, I felt that God had left me at

I knew the answer then. I have always known the answer.

Looking back, I've read the numerous journal entries during the infertility journey and I can recall the agonizing pain, really, which has been long buried. But the memory of feeling desperate and delirious with grief lingered for years.

Now, years later, I know this was the most surrendered place I had ever committed to God because I had no control of the outcome.

After four years, numerous surgeries, several fertility treatments, and a miscarriage, we became parents through the process of adoption. And, honestly, it probably saved my life. The other part of the discussion that remains in the shadows is the overall dangers these treatments can cause to some women, especially African-American women, who have a higher rate of fibroids, cysts, and endometriosis.

I recognize every story doesn't end the same as ours. But I want to encourage the women who are walking on this similar journey I've traveled, there is hope. God sees you. He hears your silent cries. And He loves you.

I am grateful Psalm 113:9 reminds us that God will provide.