offering grace

This week is national infertility awareness week, and though I know that no one else identifies me as "infertile" anymore, especially as they see me wrestling my three little crazies with a giant belly to boot, it's a label that will always stay with me. Andrew and I struggled with recurrent pregnancy loss, which is a branch of infertility. We could get pregnant...we just couldn't stay pregnant. And each loss, no matter how early, was excruciating.

Many of you, my sweet friends who read this blog, came upon this site because of your own journey through infertility. Some of you have since welcomed children, and some of you have not. This week, I want you to all know that I love you and am rooting for you always. I think often of the women I know who want a baby...whether it's their first, second, or twelfth. For those going through treatment, know of my prayers for you and your family. Prayers for success, of course, but also for peace and kindness to surround you. Treatment, at any level, is terribly difficult. It's all-consuming and scary and inconvenient and painful and expensive and generally not fun. And, unfortunately, it doesn't always work.

For all of my sweet friends reading this who have lost children of their own...Ours is a group no one wants to join. The loss of a baby is so quiet and invisible to the world, yet so loud in our own hearts and heads. For those of you with babies you will never meet, know that I honor and cherish those babies with you. I don't forget them. They were important and loved, and they still are.

And finally, for everyone (including myself), let this week remind us to be sensitive to those around us. To not immediately ask a woman when she is having kids, or when she is having another. To be aware of the quiet woman when pregnancy comes up, and maybe even have the grace to change the subject. And to offer grace to all we meet, as we have no idea of the challenges they are currently facing.