I sat in the pew, raw and bleeding. How could no one see this wound? Then, during Communion, we began to sing the Anima Christi. I've sung this prayer countless times before, but something shifted when we reached the line: "Within your wounds hide me." The words pierced through me. Why would we ask to be hidden inside wounds? Wounds are places of pain, of brokenness, of vulnerability. They're the last place anyone would choose as a hiding spot.

I broke into a million pieces, and I can’t go back This is the truth infertility forces us to face: we can’t go back. We can’t return to who we were before the diagnosis, before the loss, before the treatments, before the years of waiting. That version of ourselves—the one who believed our bodies would cooperate, who thought motherhood was just a matter of timing, who hadn’t yet learned what it means to grieve something that never was—she’s gone. 

As you may have heard, our theme for 2026 at The Fruitful Hollow is “celebration”. To launch this series, we asked our team members to share what celebration means for them on an infertility journey. As always, their responses were colourfully varied and personal.  C.J. (Director) I was surprised at how many people in our leadership team were drawn to the idea of celebration as our theme for 2026! It forced me to look at how I viewed my life, and what meant the most to me. Wh