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Published in Herald of Holiness:
EMPTY ARMS
I read with interest the letter from “Name Withheld” in the August 1, 1987, edition of the Herald of Holiness. The author was a young woman who had suffered two miscarriages and was trying to cope with infertility.
I could identify with the writer. Being involuntarily childless for six years made us painfully aware of how devastating infertility can be. My husband and I went through countless tests, many drugs, two surgeries, and two miscarriages before our son was born. We’ve seen both sides of the issue now, and I would like to share some insights for those Christians who want to help childless couples.
For the benefit of those people who find it hard to understand the frustration their childless friends express, I will list briefly some basic problems that infertile couples face.
First of all, infertility is hard to deal with because it is an invisible malady. We usually know how to deal with people who are ill, or have lost a mate or their livelihood; those tribulations are obvious to us. We send them get well cards or sympathy cards; we tell them that we’re praying for them; we take them a meal. But procreation is a private area of life and one that we don’t choose to discuss with many people. Consequently, often no one—not even a couple’s best friends—knows that they are longing for a child. In fact, most people assume that a couple without children has planned it that way, especially if that couple is financially successful or leads an active social life. They assume that the last thing in the world the couple needs is a child to tie them down.
However, infertile couples desperately want children, and feel the pain of longing every day. It’s a longing that is almost tangible and constantly present. Though men are emotionally affected by infertility, women especially go through extreme emotional and social trauma when they find they cannot conceive. Consider Hannah, who wanted a child more than anything in the world, and whose husband asked, “Am I not better to you than ten sons?” I’m sure he wished she could conceive, but he could find fulfillment elsewhere and so did not feel the pain as deeply.
A childless woman, on the other hand, is confronted daily with her inadequacies. She cannot take a trip to the grocery store without seeing rows of diapers; she cannot watch television without viewing rosy-cheeked toddlers advertising something. Most of her friends have children, and at parties the other women talk about how cute their kids are, while she sits wishing she could enter into the conversation. And church is the most painful place of all. The world has accepted and encourages a childless life-style, but the church has traditionally been quite family-oriented, even to the point where often it fails to make singles and couples without children feel included.
Christmas is the worst time of the year. Toys line the department store shelves, kids queue up to see Santa, the church goes all out for the annual children’s pageant, and the pastor announces, “We won’t be having a service this Wednesday night so that we can all spend Christmas with our families.” The infertile couple looks at each other and wonders whether their family will always consist of you, me, and Gilda the goldfish.
Childless couples frustrated by infertility usually seek medical advice. At this point the pain is intensified tenfold.
First, the wife must take her temperature daily, always at the same time of the day, and mark it on a calendar. This is usually done before she gets out of bed in the morning, so her first thought each day concerns her problem. This may not sound like much of a burden to those who have never had to deal with it, but I’ve know women who could not cope with this simple procedure and the daily reminder of their shortcomings.
Secondly, the couple is subjected to endless embarrassing tests and questions. In many cases surgery is required on one or both spouses. And the financial burden of it all is astounding. Fertility drugs can cost hundreds of dollars per month. The cost of in vitro fertilization is absurd. Most insurance plans do not cover infertility expenses. Needless to say, this financial pressure puts great strain on a marriage.
Perhaps the most devastating result of infertility is the emotional and spiritual pain. A woman who wants children but is unable to have them feels extremely inadequate and unfulfilled. News stories of child abuse and abortion fill her with rage that women who don’t want children can get pregnant but she cannot. She may begin to withdraw from society because that’s the only way she can isolate herself from the pain. She may begin to resent her husband and withdraw from his as well. Men suffer, too, and have the added burden of trying to lift the wife’s sagging spirits.
Add to this the nagging thoughts of husband and wife that God has abandoned them, or that they don’t have enough faith, or that if they were better Christians they wouldn’t be going through this, and so on. Through these doubts Satan tempts them to abandon their faith.
Concerning miscarriages, it is important to realize that the couple who has lost a child before birth experiences true grief. The being who died may have been just so many cells in a technical sense, but it was a child to its parents. They have to be allowed to go through the grief process, and any attempt to minimize their loss by insensitive remarks will only intensify their pain.
What can concerned Christians do to help ease the pain of someone going through this difficulty? Don’t make insensitive comments regarding a childless couple. Avoid asking people when they plan to start a family. Don’t expect an infertile woman to help with baby showers. Accept the fact that a couple without children may not want to be included in all church activities, but allow them the opportunity to participate if they so desire. Let the couple talk about their problem if they want to, and pray for them, but never say, “You’re trying too hard. Just relax.” Don’t tell them about your cousin Nellie who finally conceived one month after she adopted a child (Statistically, that happens in less than 10% of all cases.) What the infertile couple needs from you is not trite platitudes but quiet understanding.
And to those who are battling with infertility, I would say don’t expect everyone to understand your dilemma. Although we should expect the church to educate itself to the needs of the infertile couple and endeavor to help them, don’t expect the church to solve your problems for you. You have to do that for yourself, with God’s help. Remember also that your trial may be all-consuming to you, but the person sitting next to you on the church bench is probably going through silent suffering of his own. The Lord is using this time of testing in your life for a purpose, perhaps to make you better aware of the sufferings of others. Continue to trust in His goodness and wisdom and love.
Review by Donna Chapman Gilbert, January 2004
Waiting for Snow in Havana: Confessions of a Cuban Boy
by Carlos Eire
On January 1, 1959, Fidel Castro ousted Batista from Cuba and wrested eight-year-old Carlos Eire from his life of privileged ease. As the son of the upper class, Carlos had attended the best private schools and frolicked with his brother on clear Cuban beaches under a lemon sky. Three years later, countless public executions and social anarchy convinced his parents to send the boys to the United States. Carlos was one of the 14,000 children airlifted out of Cuba to an uncertain future in America.
Despite the poverty and loneliness that awaited him in Florida, Carlos went on to achieve success as a professor at Yale University. Waiting for Snow in Havana is his cathartic tale of Cuban life before and after its Glorious Revolution. The book’s blatant honesty is sometimes painful to read, but its prosaic beauty left me breathless. There is a disjointed quality to the writing that is somehow appropriate here: a hilarious tale of neighborhood boys trying to send a lizard into outer space strapped to a bottle rocket might introduce a tirade against the author’s perverted adopted brother, who tormented the young boy for years with sexual advances. He tells of his cousin’s death before a firing squad and his uncle’s retreat into madness after languishing in one of Fidel’s many prisons, then goes on to paint exquisite pictures of tangerine sunsets and selfless love.
Lizards. They crop up again and again, personifying evil. The book is a lyric commentary on the struggle of evil against God’s creation. Lush Cuba is ravaged by a cruel overlord. The same ocean that teems with heart-stoppingly beautiful parrot fish houses sharks as well. Carlos’ loving father is marred by the delusion, the certainty, that he is the reincarnation of King Louis XVI. He chooses his wife because he is convinced she was once Marie Antoinette. So great is his fantasy that he brings home a street urchin, whom he recognizes as the reincarnation of the French dauphin, and adopts him, thus innocently introducing a cruel pervert into his happy family. It seems lizards always lurk amid the hibiscus, as no matter how lovely the flowers are.
After Carlos arrived in Florida, a nun ministering to the fugitive children told them the story of Christ in such a way that it changed Carlos forever. That he became a Christian believer despite the ugliness of his life is a triumph of God’s grace. But believe he does, although his writing sometimes shocks my sensibilities. (The frequent use of Christ’s name as a literary device—as in “Jesus H. Lizard-Loving Christ,” for example—offended me.) God works in mysterious ways, and His method of reaching a Cuban Catholic must surely be unlike his wooing of a Bible-Belt Protestant. It follows, then, that Dr. Eire’s portrayal of God’s love would necessarily be different from mine. Who am I to say that mine is better, despite the profanity? Apparently others in the Christian community agree with me; I actually read this book at the recommendation of a writer in Christianity Today, who named it among his top ten favorites of 2003. It is now a favorite of mine. | 
