Happy Easter season to you all!

Also – habemus Papam – we have a new Pope! Yay!

It’s almost like we have (Easter)3 at the moment. Pope Francis, may he rest in peace, went home to be with the Lord; a new chapter begins with Pope Leo XIV; in the northern hemisphere, spring renews bud, blossom, and leaf. In the midst of transition and turmoil, new hope springs forth. As we look around, we can see that we are living in the newness of life with bright colors all around; in Rome, a new pope reminds us of the Resurrection by saying “Peace be with you” in his first address; in heaven, we pray, Pope Francis is rejoicing in the beatific vision of God. Triumph is resounding on multiple planes, and we are reminded of God’s joy in us, His love, and His mercy. 

And yet…

This space is not normally dedicated to rejoicing and happiness, is it? We are here because we look for solace in our sufferings – we search for reminders that we are not alone on our paths of infertility. The world reminds us, in ways both expected and sudden, that ours is not the “normal” order of things: we feel constantly left behind, out of step with the rhythms of a society in which everyone else seems to be humming along happily, surpassing milestones with ease. Career? Check (if we want). Marriage? Check (if we believe in that sort of thing). Children? Check (delivered when and how we want, at the time and circumstance of our choosing). Life is a series of obstacles to be vaulted smoothly over, with minimal difficulty – so says the world. This is the way it goes, after all: this is the natural order of things. 

We may feel like we are trying to catch up to “the others” – running frantically to reach our fertility goals, burdened with emotional luggage while others stroll (or worse, stand still!) on moving walkways, carried along effortlessly. Why can we not be where “they” are, we ask God. It’s not fair.  

These thoughts, or variations on them, are themes we often return to. We ask and ask, and do not receive answers we can understand. So we get frustrated (naturally) and, believing it will never “happen” for us, we lose hope.

But what is hope? From our Christian perspective, 

“Hope…is a gift and a task for every Christian. To hope…is not a mere act of optimism, like when we hope to pass a college exam, or when we hope for good weather…No. To hope is to wait for something that has already been granted to us: salvation in the eternal and infinite love of God…To hope is to savor the wonder of being loved, sought, and desired by a God who did not hide in his impenetrable skies but became flesh and blood, history and days, to share our fate.” (Hope is A Light in the Night, Pope Francis)

We counter this by saying: that’s all well and good, but what about my personal hopes? Will I be able to have children? Or, perhaps, we say, Well, sure – but I know I won’t be able to have children. How am I supposed to maintain hope, when what I long for is not to be granted me? 

This is the crux of our struggle. How can we hope in God’s promises when they are not (yet, or ever in this life) fulfilled? Sure, God is good, but our lives right now are marred by chronic, episodic suffering. How are we supposed to endure, and yet still have hope?

Let us look again to the words of Pope Francis: “Hope is a gift and a task”. Our responsibility, then, is to live lives full of hope, even (and most particularly) in the face of obstacles. We know that Christ Jesus came to share our humanity, to “walk the walk” and not just “talk the talk”: let us continually turn to Him for help, praying persistently without ceasing. Jesus Himself encouraged us to do so in the parable of the judge and the widow:  

“In that city there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice” … “And will God not bring about justice for his chosen ones who cry to Him day and night?” (Luke 18: 3-4,7)

Let us also allow God to comfort us. For He knows our hurts intimately: we are told and believe that

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18)

Holding fast to the promises of God is key for us, amidst our daily trials – this is the pathway to hope. 

Finally, and crucially: let us ask for the wisdom to see our sufferings in the light of God. Our lives and journeys are not mere “exceptions” to the normal order of things: our infertility stories matter deeply. These very trials that so wound us are the springs from which new life flows. Perhaps God is calling us just as He did St. Paul: 

“I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Colossians 1:24)

In this Easter season, let us hold on to hope, remembering that Jesus, after rising from the dead, did not return to His previous ministry: instead, He called His disciples to a deeper, more meaningful, life. So it is with us. Whether or not our fertility desires are granted, we will not simply “catch up” to those on the moving walkway; rather, we journey towards a deeper, fuller existence. This knowledge is the true foundation of our hope: trust in God.

Teresa Daley is a nurse. Her favorite color is purple and she likes trying new things. She enjoys both outdoor (skiing, swimming) and indoor (reading, piano) activities. She married her husband in 2017. Together they enjoy traveling and tandem bicycling. She really likes the Springs in the Desert blog posts and is honored to be a Contributor.