Not long after our miscarriage, which was preceded by many years of infertility, a dear friend shared something with me that has stayed in my heart. She and her husband also walked through infertility before welcoming children, and she was reflecting on how heavy that season had been for them. With tenderness and honesty, she texted that she knew of marriages that haven’t survived loss and that she didn’t think her own marriage would have survived infertility were it not for good marriage counseling.

I knew her words were not meant as a warning or a comparison. They were an act of vulnerability and encouragement, offered alongside compassion for what we were carrying. Still, I was startled. This was a fun couple I admired, one that had always seemed strong and united. Her comment filled me with sadness for what they have endured, and gratitude for the grace that has sustained my own marriage.

It also clarified something important for me. Infertility does not automatically strengthen a marriage, nor does it inevitably weaken one. It reveals what is already there and invites a couple to choose, again and again, whether they will turn toward each other or slowly drift apart. For us, infertility and loss have been powerful storms to endure, often with no end in sight. By God’s grace and strength, however, these shared sufferings have deepened our unity.

The Covenant That Holds When Suffering Comes

In Love and Responsibility, Pope Saint John Paul II wrote, “Love is not something ready-made…Love should be seen as something which in a sense never ‘is’ but is always only ‘becoming’, and what it becomes depends upon the contribution of both persons and the depth of their commitment.” Love is ever-evolving; a daily act of both parties to cultivate and express love. 

Infertility has strengthened an already solid foundation for us, not because the experience has been easy, but because marriage is not meant to be sustained only by ease and “good times”. The Church teaches that marriage is a covenant, not a contract. The Catechism reminds us that spouses “mutually confer upon each other the sacrament of Matrimony” and are strengthened by grace to “help one another [to] attain holiness in their married life” through “mutual aid and self-giving” (CCC 1623, 1641, 1609).

Hard times are not a sign of failure. They are part of the promise we made in our wedding vows. If infertility were not our cross, something else would be. Marriage is not entered into for the positive moments alone. It is entered for the long road of sanctification together.

Scripture echoes this truth clearly: “Where one alone may be overcome, two together can resist. A three-ply cord is not easily broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:12). When Christ is at the center, suffering does not have to divide; it can bind.

Learning to Suffer Together, Not Apart

My husband does not suffer infertility in the same way I do. He told me recently that his deepest suffering is watching me suffer. After our loss, he shared with me that he does not understand why God allows me to carry so much of the emotional and physical weight of our cross. When grief overtakes me, he puts everything else down and gives me his full attention. His steadiness calms me when my emotions feel overwhelming.

Scripture calls spouses to this kind of love: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). We have had to learn each other’s coping styles. When I am consumed by sadness over our miscarried child or overwhelmed by pregnancy announcements and idle chit-chat about children, I ask honest questions. I ask whether he mourns our baby and how that looks for him. He acknowledges the emotion of sadness, then says it helps to turn attention to other things rather than dwelling on the sadness; to reflect on gratitude in this present moment. Expectations do not weigh on my husband the same way as they do for me. Understanding this difference has helped us avoid resentment and choose compassion. His encouragement and recitation of Bible verses help me to get through a particularly bad moment so I can clear through the fog and find joy elsewhere.

Choosing Joy Without Denying Loss

For us, choosing joy means refusing to let loss consume every corner of our lives. We focus on shared goals that remind us we are more than our crosses.

We plan “bucket list” trips together. We host friends for dinner and go out on double-dates. We volunteer and discuss how we distribute our charitable giving. We walk together every day, prioritize our health, and cook new recipes together. Recently, for example, we recreated pasteis de nata (custard tart) after a trip to Portugal. These shared joys help anchor us to the present moment instead of constantly feeling grief for experiences in the past or anxiety for an unknown future. 

In short, we live our lives to the fullest within our circumstances. Children are not the only place meaning resides. Couples without children often retain a clearer sense of self and partnership. Infertility and loss have invited us to nurture this intentionally.

Some of the most important lessons infertility has taught us are simple, daily choices:

  • Prioritizing partnership through “date days” and intentional time together.
  • Practicing good communication with active listening and clarifying questions.
  • Sacrificing for one another in small ways that ease emotional or physical burdens.
  • Making each other laugh even when circumstances feel heavy.
  • Apologizing quickly after cooling off and becoming skilled at repair.
  • Limiting digital distractions so attention is not fragmented.
  • Praying together, such as mini retreats for parents of child loss or participating in Springs in the Desert’s Lenten small groups.

Coming Together in Grief

Infertility can pull couples apart if grief is dealt with in isolation. It can also draw them closer if suffering is shared. A book that has deeply resonated with us is Grieving Together: A Couple’s Journey through Miscarriage by Laura and Franco Fanucci, which emphasizes that unity in sorrow strengthens marriage.

The Catechism affirms that spouses are called to a communion of life and love (CCC 1603). Even grief belongs in that communion. We are not strong because suffering passed us by. We are strong because we choose to put each other first every day, with God by our side.

Written by an Anonymous Springs in the Desert writer.