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Hi. Welcome to my "taboo" blog. My name is Steph, and when I first started this, I was still in my thirties. In 2017, I switch decades! I am a Christian, so underlying everything I do and say is the Word of God, and the foundational truths I have learnt over the years. This doesn't mean I'm perfect - I am human. It just means I recognise I need God's help to live this life and try to live out His way, as best I can. So that's me in a nutshell. Thanks for taking the time to read through my blog, I hope you draw strength, hope or encouragement from what you read.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Urge to Hug

One of the terms used to describe the feelings which accompany the infertility struggle, relates to our empty arms. The desire to hold someone, to hug and protect and cherish our own, is sometimes so strong, it is a physical representation of the ache in our hearts as a result of our empty womb.

Recently, the desire to hold my own baby has been so overwhelmingly strong, it's hard to explain, and even harder to tell anyone as the desire builds within. The fear of being told, "How do you know what you're missing, you've never had a baby." Or being told I'm just being silly, I think has silenced me on these occasions. The struggle of infertility just seems to be unrelenting and it is such a private emotional journey, to have someone try to diminish my feelings as foolish or silly would add to my sense of isolation on this path.

It feels like a huge drop in the depths of my stomach, my inner man, when I realise this is not going to happen. That I have no child to hold. No comfort to give. No reassurance to offer in the warmth of my arms. It is that sense of dread about the unmet desire which literally falls from my heart and buries itself in the depth of my spirit. 

Especially with all the glowing Facebook posts from proud parents photographing their child's first day at school/ big school etc.

This is part of the journey. A journey which has no light at the end...in fact, there doesn't even seem to be an end to it. And so, it's a case of hiding myself in my Heavenly Father's arms. Resting in the warmth if His embrace and allow Him to wipe away my tears. 

This is, of course, spiritually speaking. How nice it would be to find that comfort in reality too.

Father God, I thank You because You never belittle or minimise our feelings, or the way we allow the journey of infertility to affect us, even after all these years. Father, I pray that when the desire for a baby threatens to overwhelm, that You would overwhelm that sense of dread and hopelessness with Your shalom. In Jesus name I pray.

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