I can recall many times in the last eight years of marriage when I had hope related to having babies and children. First and foremost, I think of that innocent hope I had when we first got married and expected that babies would simply arrive. It was just assumed, just like that familiar children’s song that states that “first comes love and marriage and then baby in a baby carriage”. Months later, when conception wasn’t happening, there were still times when I was hopeful that if my wife and I did more charting, worked with a new doctor, tried different supplements or treatments, had a successful surgery, or did an infertility-focused pilgrimage, we would finally catch a break and conceive. Doing all these things and placing our hope in a baby, it was understandably devastating when we had not conceived after years of actively trying.  And later, we were again crushed when we conceived but lost the pregnancy, leaving us with no healthy baby to cherish. Hope became a dangerous thing that led to more disappointment and pain, rather than something that made us feel safe or good.

It didn’t happen overnight (it took years, actually), but as my hope in conception and carrying a baby to full term was stripped down, I began to discover and experience more reliable hope in other things not dependent on specific fertility outcomes. As hard as it was to accept, we were not promised a baby, and I needed to focus my hope on something other than a dream that I could not ensure or control. In the past, childlessness and the understanding that I likely would  not have biological children would have been a “worst case scenario.” And at times it has definitely felt like that. Yet, despite the immense grief of this reality, it’s not all darkness and I have still found hope in my life as it is and in my future.

Most notably,  I experience hope in my marriage. In the midst of the darkness of grief, trauma, and years of emotional anguish, I have found consolation in my wife who was there with me every step of the way. We clung to each other, in good times and in bad, made it through the tough times, and became  stronger because of it. I have no doubt that the shared grief and pain have actually made our marriage stronger, which in turn gives me so much hope for the future of our relationship. I am grateful for this because I know infertility strains many marriages (including ours, don’t get me wrong) and it often takes work to maintain unity through it all. 

I also experience hope from my marriage through  witnessing the fruitfulness of our union: how the love and grace from  our sacrament flows outward through our love for each other  and welcomes others, including those also going through infertility and loss. Although we continue to hope that we can welcome a child to our family (we are currently pursuing adoption), I choose to place my ultimate hope that we will continue to be fruitful no matter what, and that there are good things in store for us in the future no matter what happens with our path with adoption, our family size, or anything else in this life.

I have also found hope in community. I just got back from helping  lead one of Springs in the Desert’s in-person retreats and I both personally experienced hope and witnessed it in the participants. It was a real and invigorating reminder that there is beauty and healing in meeting and spending time with others on the path of infertility; relating with each other, supporting one another, and knowing that you are seen and not alone. Being able to experience that kind of community gives me hope that you and I can be okay, no matter what happens, because we don’t have to do it alone.

Additionally, I have found hope in our resilience as human persons made in His image. I am encouraged by the example of others who are further down the path of infertility than I am, who, although they will never have children of their own, still have hope, fruitfulness, and purpose in their lives and shine brightly in their faith and joy. I am encouraged, too,  by people who face other kinds of human suffering; for example, my counseling clients who have been through some incredible traumatic experiences, the victims of the concentration camps of the 20th century, or the great martyrs of our Christian tradition who still found hope and purpose in  evil times. Human persons possess remarkable resilience, especially when cooperating with God’s grace, and we can find hope even in the darkest of places in this fallen world. There is light in those bleak places and there is hope for you in your own darkness. 

Finally, I have found hope in God and His plan, even though it has been hard at times. I choose to believe, and know in my being, that God is in control and that He has a beautiful plan for me and my wife, even if it includes allowing immense suffering in our life and answering my prayers in a way different than what I desired or expected. Even though we cannot always hope for  specific outcomes or events on our journey through life, we can trust in Him — who is all good and powerful — and therefore we can trust that all our suffering is part of something bigger and good. As Thomas Merton once said, “the real hope is not in something we think we can do, but in God, who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see.”

May we hold fast to that hope that endures forever. 

Edward Luersman, MA, LPCC lives in Central Ohio with his wife Kate and is owner and Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor at Blessed Are They Counseling. As a Catholic and mental health counselor who has personally experienced the agony of primary infertility and several pregnancy losses, his top specialty and passion is supporting Christian individuals and couples throughout Ohio and Florida experiencing the hidden reproductive grief of infertility, pregnancy loss, or infant loss through online, faith-integrated therapy. You may learn more and contact him at www.blessedaretheycounseling.com.