Infertility and the Price of Pride

A few days ago, I heard a woman in a radio commercial say:

“I can’t afford pride. I’ve got bills to pay and obligations to meet….”

I started thinking, what price do we pay for pride? And why do we do it? As we’re going through infertility, what does it cost us – and is it worth it?

Every year, advertisers spend billions trying to convince us that if we don’t buy what they’re selling, we risk becoming social outcasts – judged by the world, and found lacking. It’s easy enough to see through the strategy, but there are times when it’s difficult to resist the underlying message. Essentially, that message is: “you are the star in the only story that matters. The one everyone is watching. If you don’t meet or exceed expectations, instead of feeling proud of all the attention, you are going to feel shame.”

That’s a very toxic message, and one we receive hundreds of times a day. Without realizing it, with enough exposure, we start to believe it’s the truth. Our egos only serve to confirm it: yes, I’m important. It’s all about me.

So, to avoid public humiliation, we focus our attention on protecting the secret that, for some reason, we can’t have a baby. This choice adds tremendous pressure to the already-stressful infertility experience. It enables us to avoid the imaginary spotlight – but at the cost of separation, isolation, and the loss of support and encouragement we so desperately need.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

God says the opposite of pride isn’t shame; it’s humility. It’s acknowledging that we aren’t the center of the universe, and life isn’t all about us. Although that realization may be a slight bruise to the ego, it’s also a great relief. It means we don’t have to be perfect; God already knows we’re flawed. We don’t have to earn our blessings; God already intends to give them to us. We don’t have to explain our childlessness; God has a plan and a purpose for this journey. All we need to do is trust Him.

“To you, O Lord, I life up my soul; in you I trust, O my God. No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame….” [Psalm 25:1-3].

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Find more cause for hope at PregnantWithHope.com

Can We Talk About Infertility?

If misery loves company, why do we insist on isolating ourselves when we need support the most? One woman with the courage to go public with a private loss wrote this in a Newsweek editorial:

“The doctor said the test had indicated an unviable pregnancy. I started talking to other pregnant women (who seemed to be all around me) and learned what no one tells you until devastation has set in: up to 25% of pregnancies end in miscarriage.

People keep too mum about private tragedies such as this. True, miscarriages are not catastrophic, especially in terms of sheer commonality, but it can tear away a piece of you that you didn’t know was there. We need to talk to each other, rather than suffer surrounded by silent sisters.”

She’s right. We need to talk to each other. Suffering in silence only compounds the sense of isolation we already feel in the midst of infertility.

So, why don’t we talk? Why don’t we tell each other, “I lost a pregnancy” or “I lost a child”? The tidal wave of grief is already washing over us. The only way to get a lifeline is to call for help.

What’s stopping us?

Pride is what silenced me. I hated to admit I was failing at something so many other women seemed to accomplish effortlessly. Seemed being the key word. If the Newsweek writer is to be believed, there were miscarriages going on all around me. But no one talked about it. Those silent sisters kept their secrets and I foolishly believed that I was alone in my misery. That I was the only one struggling to catch up with everyone else’s instant gratification.

Now, consider this: “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble” [James 4:6].

Ouch.

My pride was rooted in a desire for self-reliance and control. I was raised to consider self-reliance a virtue…an admirable quality often seen in leaders… the mark of a “can do” go-getter. And control as the holy grail. But God doesn’t see it that way. He sees arrogant self-centeredness that refuses to make room for Him. Or worse, an entitlement attitude that puts me on the throne and Him at my beck and call (in the form of “I want/I need” prayer).

“God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”

Thank goodness I finally set my pride aside and began to share my struggle. Grace came from all around me, in the form of stories shared by women who’d also kept their struggles secret. All of us had bought into the lie that we alone were failing to conceive. We alone kept miscarrying. Meanwhile, “we” were everywhere.

Don’t make my mistake. Share your story. There’s a silent sister out there suffering, and she needs to hear it.

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Find more cause for hope at PregnantWithHope.com