Christ tells us: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30). 

These verses are some of my “life verses” – the Bible verses that shape one’s life and keep popping up over and over again. I need this constant reminder because I routinely place my hope in other things and try to find rest outside of Christ. 

Infertility, for me, is one major offender of looking elsewhere for peace, rest, and hope despite the manifold reminders that Christ alone is where I can find peace, rest, and hope in abundant measure. 

I find it somewhat exhausting to both battle against all the world throws at me regarding infertility and to keep my hope firmly rooted in Christ, but the battle is 100% worth it. The best way to illustrate this is with my own testimony. 

When my husband and I first found ourselves on the path of infertility, I remember being overwhelmed by all the possible avenues for treatment. Everything looked okay for us on paper, so the doctors were not too proactive in the measures they took. Instead, I worked on removing toxins from our home and making some lifestyle changes in an effort to create the best environment. It wasn’t until we moved to our current home state, and I found a new doctor, that medical treatment got more intense. I remember with each treatment thinking, “Okay. This one will be what makes the difference.” 

Eventually, my doctor suspected endometriosis, and I had surgery in 2020 for that to be removed. My endometriosis was fairly pervasive, and I remember thinking that after that surgery, we would finally be able to conceive. The surgeon sounded hopeful, too, and I figured we would be growing our family shortly after I had healed. 

Yet, neither the surgery, nor treatments, nor changing our lifestyle worked. Of course, we were also trying to discern God’s Will for our marriage throughout all of these medical and lifestyle interventions. We prayed the novenas, we went to Adoration, we tried to remain faithful to God and carry the cross He allowed for us. People are well-meaning, but they often say the wrong thing – such as, “I prayed such and such novena and was able to conceive.” It was so hard to maintain hope throughout the spiritual desert the Lord allowed us to walk through, especially with what felt like a multitude of living examples who had changed this thing in their life or prayed this prayer and were able to get pregnant.  

In another grasp for the unanswered prayer we so desired – having a biological baby – I asked my husband if I could sign on with a nutritionist and hormone expert to see if they could help us find answers, since medical doctors were routinely saying our infertility was unexplained and that everything looked good on paper. In his wisdom, he saw it for what it truly was — the desire to feel in control of the situation — and instead reoriented my gaze to Christ. He reminded me that Christ alone can give me the peace I was looking for in all the treatments, gurus, changes, and doctors. 

In 2021 I found myself angry, resentful, and cynical. My mental health was really suffering, and my husband and I made the decision to stop treatments and charting all at the same time. 

I had to examine how I viewed God, too. I realized I viewed Him almost like a reward-giver. I felt like we were doing the right things, yet He wasn’t giving us what we wanted. It wasn’t fair. It took me a long time to realize that I had the wrong lens for who God is. Yes, He wants good things for us, but He is not a vending machine, rewarding us for how we act by dispensing what we pray for. 

Thus began a time of spiritual and mental healing. I clawed and crawled my way back to the Father and allowed Him to speak Truth and pour healing into my soul. I realized that while He can do anything, He always does what will bring us to salvation, and sometimes that won’t make sense this side of Heaven. I was ultimately given  the grace to give Him my desire for biological children and accept that in His wisdom, I may not receive this deep desire of my heart. I wrestled with whether I could accept that reality and know that He is still good. 

It’s hard to find the words to explain the shift in my soul, but the only way I can think to say it is that the pervading peace I was given after five years of striving and fighting and putting my hope in all the things but Christ came when I finally laid those burdens at the feet of Christ and realized my cross is light. 

This is not to say that it’s a walk in the park, or free of sadness. There is still pain and sadness and grief. But the difference comes in how I carry this cross and experience its weight. 

Eight years into our infertility journey, my husband and I find ourselves permanently on the path of infertility after discerning a need for a medical hysterectomy. We grieved this reality intensely, but when the time came for the surgery, I had profound peace. Afterwards, I could only feel relief and some vindication, knowing that the surgery had been the right decision after hearing the surgeon’s findings. 

It doesn’t make sense, this peace I still have, but I am incredibly grateful that the promises of Christ can be relied upon and trusted. He alone can turn a heavy, painful burden such as infertility into an easy and light load. The suffering is not removed, but with surrender to Christ, freedom awaits. 

I share the particulars of my own story not as something to imitate, but rather as an example of how profound and good our Father is. I will never stop singing His praises for walking alongside me on this path, even when I thought I was alone and was too bitter to notice His presence. Christ doesn’t promise us ease or rewards here on earth; instead, He promises never to leave us alone and to help carry our burdens so that His peace can be experienced here and now. 

Merideth Ochs is a Catholic wife and adoptive mother, who thrives on copious amounts of coffee and deeply loves her faith, cultivating holy friendships, and reading books. Merideth writes about infertility, adoption, family life, and faith on her Substack, Manna from the Sky.