Am I Infertile?

This week, being National Infertility Awareness Week (at least in the United States...) I have seen a lot of blog posts about infertility. Resolve, an organization set to bring awareness of infertility to the world, has challenged all who know of them to write a blog post busting an infertility myth this week. I've been tempted to do so, but still don't quite know what I would write on.

Then, today I read another blog post. It was by a woman who had experienced infertility and had been blessed with a daughter and b/g twins. Here is an excerpt of what she wrote:

So now I’m a mom. Now what? Do you think I’m not infertile anymore? Do you think my infertility is behind me? Well, yes I am and no, it’s not. Once you’re an infertile, you’re always an infertile. Infertility changes you. It can take you to places that scare the hell out of you and also to places that are better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

I can completely empathize with this statement, but it leaves me completely confused at the same time. I guess because, in a very real way, the answer to the question, "Am I infertile?" is a big, resounding no! I was infertile, or rather, I experienced infertility. I would still call myself infertile, even though the problem was *technically* on Matthew's side, because, what difference does it make if another man could get me pregnant? No other man would/will, and I wouldn't want them to. It's always been our problem, not his problem, so yes, I'd have said I was infertile right alongside of him. We were a family that could not (without extreme measures) conceive a child.

And then we received miraculous blessings of healing from our eternal Father in Heaven. We were blessed that, according to our faith, the Lord's will and His timing, I would bear our biological children, and then, at the first possible opportunity to do so, I became pregnant with Elijah.

Was my infertility washed away in that instance?

Yes. I know it was.

But what does that mean of the feelings left behind? How do I now reconcile my feelings to my experiences? What does it mean for me, in light of what the quoted writer above said?

Let me reiterate:

Once you’re an infertile, you’re always an infertile. Infertility changes you. It can take you to places that scare the hell out of you and also to places that are better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

True, this woman was writing from the perspective of having children through IVF, and whether being a mother meant she was infertile or not. But what of the part I just quoted?

I don't believe that, "Once you're infertile, you're always infertile." However, in the vast majority of cases, that IS the case, and so the generalization is a fair one. Someone who says that has no idea about or belief in miraculous blessings of healing. And that's okay, not everyone knows of or believes in the Gospel at this point. But I do, and I know better. I know that Heavenly Father wiped away our tears and took away our sicknesses.

But what, then, should be the changes left behind by infertility? The ideal answer, obviously, would be that all the lessons I've learned from infertility stay behind. The ability to empathize with another's pain. The trust in God. The patience through an indefinite trial. I would think that they should ALL be things left behind.

But my question is, Does being healed mean that all of your feelings surrounding being infertile wash away? Does it mean you no longer worry about whether or not you will conceive? Whether or not your child will be biologically "normal?" Whether or not you will miscarry?

I can tell you that those feelings do not wash away in the blink of an eye. Being healed does not change your feelings, although I think a big part of it should. I think that I may still worry about miscarrying, or carrying a biologically normal baby, because those are trials that regular, normal people face. But I don't think I should ever start to worry that I won't conceive in the future, that we'll go through infertility again, because that would be to imply that Elijah was a fluke, and not a miracle. And I think, also, that if I receive a blessing while pregnant that this baby will be born healthy and well, I need to have faith in that, and not constantly worry about losing it.

Faith. That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? I still worry. I worry a lot! But when my mind starts down the worry-path, my task is to pull it back to what I know to be true. I know we were healed. I know I have Elijah and that he is a miracle. I know I received a blessing this pregnancy (on the night after I experienced the whole fiasco at the doctor's when she told me I'd miscarry) that said that this would be a healthy pregnancy and baby. I must always come back to these things. And sometimes that's not easy to do.

Because the blog post I quoted resonates with me. Infertility does not leave you. Worrying does not leave you. Fears, and doubts, and old hurts do not leave you. They are always there, serving as reminders, and as temptations to fall back into faithless, fearful ways, which are not Heavenly Father's ways. Heavenly Father would have me be happy and excited about the future.

So, to answer the original poster's questions of, "Do you think I’m not infertile anymore? Do you think my infertility is behind me?" I say that, no, I am not infertile anymore. And yet, at the same time, no my infertility is not behind me. It is always there, reminding me of all I feared, but also reminding me of the miracles and GOOD I experienced because of it. I just need to learn to wrap my mind around that good and cast aside those fears. I'm not "normal" and I never will be. But I'm grateful for that. It means I can be something more than normal, not less. Before, with infertility, I felt less than normal. Heavenly Father saw fit to raise me from that state, and place me in one that is not normal, but is even better, because I know. I know.

We were healed.

And that's all that really matters in the end.