Her eyes lifted, momentarily from the Parenthood magazine she encased her emotions behind. At this moment in the quiet waiting room, we barely noticed one another. All that is heard is the soft buzz of activity at the nursing station and the calls answered by a rushed receptionist attempting to book yet another patient. Hasty physicians walked briskly from room to room giving pause to a quickly opened file, sighed and walked into each room to those waiting a verdict.
She was young, possibly twenty-five years on this earth. The ring on her finger showed she would have to face the verdict alone. Would the news of whatever her fate be faced with courage or tears that simply wouldn’t wait? All was kept secret, behind a pretty face by Mabeline, and soft auburn hair combed down. She clutched a silver and black Coach purse, as tightly as she clung to a tense nervous composure. Her eyes reflected the only question she was poised ready to ask: Why?
Our small company of two grew to four as a Mother and her small cradled newborn entered the room. The Mother was completely oblivious to the two women who regarded her bundle. She peeled back a bright pink cotton blanket to reveal another pink and white tiny sleeper encasing a resting child. The little face relaxed in perfect peace. Long lashes, a tiny nose and perfect pink lips reflection the perfect creation she was. The Mother held this darling close to her heart and she closed her eyes for a moment.
I glanced at the woman and thought I heard the small, cool intake of breath. I saw in her eyes the longing, mixed with a painful mist that clouded her blue eyes turning a watery shade of grey. I knew that look. I knew the constricting of the heart as pain seared emotions that hadn’t been adequately shared with someone, anyone who understood. In these moments any small bit of joy is smothered in the reality of unanswered dreams and unanswered questions.
Instinctively, I wanted to reach over, grab her hand, place an arm around those burdened shoulder and whisper that I understood. I yearned to reach to the depth of her hurting heart and soothe the ache that is there and tell her it really would be okay, that there is a resolution to be found and comfort to come. However, I had not been given that privilege to enter her world. Hurts this deep can only be shared with deep trust in the listener who listens without giving insensitive advise.
Only a moment later, her name was called and she rose to accept the news of the reasons infertility kept her isolated from the ‘Mother Club’. I smiled as our eyes met and then she was gone.
For the one who knows this pain, who understands this journey of infertility, from the deep places in me I grieve for you. I see you everywhere I go and I see the pain that is so familiar. God sees it too and Jesus longs to take your hand, put His arms around your hurting heart and release the burden that is uniquely yours. He longs for you to know that it really will be okay and that He has a resolution for you, when you are ready for it to come into your life. “Hold on to hope”, He says. He won’t give you insensitive advice. He longs to bring comfort if only you would give Him the privilege to enter your world. He has many here on this planet who would understand.