It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Pregnancy test number 1,121 is in the trash. Negative pregnancy test number thirty-five had just as much heartache as the 1,090, and then as the last one I ever took. I don’t remember the last one, but it must have been at some point in the past year. In twenty-three years of marriage, I had lost count of the actual number of tests, but the resulting heartache had remained the same, until God freed me through prayer and a physical and mental healing after surgery. Then the heartache suddenly didn’t feel quite so sharp. Through God’s salvific plan of redemption, that rain of infertility came to be the very source of hope in my life, a mechanism of grace.  What if our rainbows, our marriage’s missions in life, are only made possible by this cross?

The cross of infertility, although not a part of God’s perfect will in our lives, is allowed in order to unite us to Himself.

This is something that I could not understand for many years and that is still revealing itself in my life and marriage. My husband and I were married young and wanted nothing more than to have a family of children. We would go on to be blessed –  miraculously and with much Naprotechnology assistance –  with a beautiful baby girl who is now on her way to college. The years that would follow in secondary infertility were tremendous moments of the cross. Along the way, I discovered moments that followed what Christ may have experienced, and with God’s grace I was able to intercede for others in that suffering. As Saint Padre Pio said, “Suffering born in a Christian way is the condition that God, the author of all grace and of all the gifts that lead to salvation, has established for granting us glory.” (Source) This is a difficult thing to do, to kiss the cross when we just want our bodies to work normally.  Yet in the hundreds of hormone shots, and appointments, sacrifices of time, treasure, and surgeries, I found the opportunity to conform myself to Christ and offer up my suffering for people in the most serious of situations and problems worse than mine, though it did not diminish or invalidate the pain I was experiencing.  

The cross of infertility, when carried faithfully, is a source of grace in the couple’s own life and the lives of others – a witness to the world.

Along this journey some of us will see renowned doctors, nurses, and clinics outside of the pro-life sphere. I will never know what our witness to saying “no” to artificial reproductive technologies will do in planting seeds of truth to others. I pray for the doctors I saw; especially the one who thought I would eventually change my mind on IVF. It was important for us to consider that in saying “no” to unethical means of having children, we were indeed saying “YES” resoundingly to God’s plan for life.  This was also mysterious to me, that by not having children by any means possible – we were actually living out the greatest source of grace and life that we could.  

My husband was given the grace to accept God’s will regarding our situation early on, and for that I am thankful. As we begin our time as “empty nesters” at a relatively young age, I see that there is still fruit – I pray abundant fruit – that is growing from our marriage. We have ministry and work opportunities that we would not be able to do otherwise, as well as the ability to care for others in our family. I am convinced that for each couple suffering this cross there are immeasurable sources of invisible grace that God will one day reveal. One scripture that became a source of contemplation and comfort was Isaiah 54: 1-3. It speaks about  those who would never give earthly births, but goes on to proclaim God’s mercy and love for women who feel abandoned. God promises to take everything that is wrong in this world, when we give it to Him, trusting Him, and redeem it. Another consoling passage is from Revelation:   

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, [for] the old order has passed away.” 

The one who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” Then he said, “Write these words down, for they are trustworthy and true.” Revelation 21: 4-5 

The life of the world to come will never be fully understood this side of Heaven.

And yet, we know Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. In His truth He tells us, “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, what God has ready for those who love Him”. (cf 1 Corinthians 2:9) As we partake in this love of His through the cross of infertility, we are fashioned to His form and working on our sanctity. We are given the ability to grow in heroic virtue that is a sign of the life to come in Christ. I often wonder why I had to have so many Napro surgeries – maybe you wonder why too. Why the thousands of shots and needles, uncomfortable procedures, and the like? But without understanding, I offered up myself in trust that God would take the pain we experienced – even though it did not result in more children – and make something beautiful from it. He breathes new realities in this world, but more than that, there are glories we will only one day realize (God-willing) in Heaven, much like rain in a storm, giving way to light, and creating a most glorious display in the sky. This is the faith to see, a glimmer of the glory to come. The Catechism teaches us that we partake, when in a state of grace, in the mysterious holiness of the Church here on earth “holiness is the hidden source and infallible measure of her apostolic activity and missionary zeal,” (CCC, 828). It is through our struggles of infertility that God has chosen us to live out this holiness, regardless of what the outcome is. We are living for another life to come, and children are one very important aspect, but not the end goal of life itself. Rather, the ultimate plan for the salvation of the world and the life of the world to come is where we must place our hope and eyes upon, because even those with numerous children will also one day give way to the reality of the Resurrection, where we are all united fully in Christ, the bride, the Church.   

Lastly, in this plan for salvation the more I have accepted and embraced the cross, the more healing has occurred and the brighter the rainbows that followed. This path is leading me to the plans that God has in store for us, allowing me to live fully in the present. I spent a lot of years with those negative tests always wondering what the plan was, could I do this, or should I wait for that? Now that it is not possible for us to have more children, there has been tremendous healing to move forward in still being a gift of self to others in the here and the now, with what my husband and I can offer. The fruitfulness in our marriage is continuing to grow, in ways that I would have never conceived of even a year ago. God is adventurous and is calling us to greatness always, and through the cross He prunes our hearts to be more like His. When we’re in the thick of it and surrender to Him we must remember, He does eventually send the resurrection, He will send a rainbow after the storm. But a rainbow might not be what we imagined, yet it is glorious in His creation, we need only trust as Mother Mary did.  

Sarah Hauer and her husband Adam live in Phoenix, AZ where Sarah works as an artist, author, and Catholic art educator. Married in 2002, the Theology of the Body by St. John Paul II had a significant impact on Sarah’s reversion to the Catholic faith and the foundation of their marriage.  They were blessed with one miraculous child that she attributes to the intercession of St. Jude Thaddeus. Her vocation as wife, mother, and artist leads her to strive to bring hope and beauty to life for others. She holds a B.F.A. in Art and is a Candidate (Dec. 2025) for a Masters in Theology and Christian Ministry through Franciscan University of Steubenville.