Many of us look forward to summertime and the slower-pace and additional time for relaxing that it often brings. Whether it is a beach vacation or long-weekend getaway to the mountains, we may anticipate opportunities for getting away with our spouse during the summer months. While these getaways can be times of rejuvenation and deepening our relationship, for those of us in a season of infertility and/or loss, they can also be occasions for triggers and trauma responses, leaving us more drained than we were before the trip.

At the beginning of my marriage, I loved seeing families at restaurants and watching parents with their children at the beach. Witnessing these beautiful moments of family love, my husband and I would smile and daydream together about the family we would have some day. They were occasions to dream together and strengthen our marriage. These days, we have a different reaction to witnessing other families on vacation. Instead of a tender surge of warmth and hope, they tend to produce bittersweet pangs and teary eyes. 

Sometimes it hurts so much to see the families sharing amusements and exploring together that I struggle to enjoy my own vacation. I watch the children’s wonder at the beauty of Creation and hear snippets as the parents explain things or marvel together with their children. My own experience of “leisure” can feel as empty as my spare bedroom. Why did my husband and I even come on this trip? What is the point of experiencing this amusement or beautiful place if I can’t share it with the next generation? 

Although no amount of processing, prayer, or thought-redirection can completely alleviate the pain of the path of infertility, two mindset shifts have helped me begin to reclaim the experience of leisure with my husband and find meaning amidst the sorrow. 

First, I try to remind myself that even though there are no children with us, we can marvel together and enjoy the experience as a couple. We’re invited to experience all the joys and wonders of vacation as a married couple. We’re allowed to be silly, we’re allowed to marvel at the gorgeous flowers, we’re allowed to build sandcastles. God’s handiwork in the natural world and the joys He lavishes on us during life should call forth wonder and awe from us. As we age, we often lose that sense of wonder. Although God often invites adults to rediscover their sense of wonder through children, the invitation is extended to all of us, no matter the size of our families. 

On a practical note, this means I will often make comments to my husband, even if they seem silly. For example, if we’re at the arboretum, I’ll stop under the huge oak and exclaim, “It’s so big,” while tilting my head back all the way in an attempt to see the top. If we’re at the beach, I’ll collect shells. If we’re on a hike, I’ll ask my husband if he knows what kind of tracks those are. These are all tiny and inconsequential things, but they are ones I find myself less and less likely to do unless I consciously decide to. It is good and beautiful to appreciate the wonder of things as an adult! We do not have to consent to be jaded and bored by life. 

The second shift is less light-hearted. When the moments of witnessing families with children are painful, I attempt to lean into the hurt, striving to see the experience as an opportunity to strengthen my marriage through shared suffering. If I stuff down my feelings or avoid meeting my husband’s eyes, I’m forfeiting an opportunity to be with him in the pain. He is likely feeling sad, too. If I make eye-contact or squeeze his hand, we can acknowledge our sadness together, and give each other support in that moment. We are always stronger together, especially in difficult moments. Just as we shared the joy of anticipating our own children as newlyweds, we can still share our hope now that God has a good and fruitful plan for our marriage even if it is hidden and mysterious. 

While summertime and the resulting opportunities for leisure with our spouses can be times of rejuvenation and strengthening our relationships, vacations can also be difficult for those of us carrying the cross of infertility and loss. By allowing ourselves to both enjoy the beauty of Creation and experience sadness together as a married couple, we can work toward reclaiming the joy of spending time together.