A huge part of carrying the cross of infertility is feeling like we have so much love in our hearts with nowhere for it to go. While nothing can replace motherhood, not having children does not mean we have nothing to offer the world. The Holy Spirit endows each of us with special charisms intended to build up those around us. We are not without mission. We are not without purpose.

Visio Divina is simply sitting with an image and taking time to reflect on the deeper points of faith that the picture is guiding us towards. By meditating on these three paintings of Mary, we hope you can enter into a deeper relationship with not only our Mother, but her Son that she always points us toward. God can speak to us and nourish us in images as much as in quiet prayer or scripture.

May is the month of Mary. For many of us, that sentence lands differently depending on the season of life we're in. If you're in the thick of infertility, loss, or grief, the month of May can feel like a quiet ache. And yet, here she is. Our Lady. Waiting. If your relationship with Mary is complicated? Good. You're in the right place. That's where most of us started, too.

Life can be both beautiful and hard at the same time, and our task is to learn how to live that reality without hardening our hearts. I have never felt more broken and grateful at the same time. There's a freedom in acknowledging that you can't control everything. Perhaps joy isn't about forcing yourself to feel better, but about taking small, honest steps and allowing both pain and beauty to coexist.

This week is Infertility Awareness Week, and we are here to remind you that you are not alone in your journey, whatever that may look like. Over the past 5 years, The Fruitful Hollow has shared hundreds of stories about walking this road and we will continue to accompany you. You are seen and heard, part of a community that has wounds like yours. We are holding you close this week.

Christ's glorified body bore the marks of His suffering, not as ongoing pain, but as eternal testimony. Our scars from infertility might not be things God erases in eternity, but things He transforms. Not sources of ongoing pain, but testimonies of His faithfulness through suffering. We don't worship a God who erases our stories. We worship a God who redeems them, scars and all.

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.

The Annunciation has a very special place in my heart as a mom of loss and someone who has also experienced primary and secondary infertility. I always looked at it as this miraculous event where even when conception seemed impossible, it wasn't with God. It was hopeful that we might miraculously conceive. As I have gone through my own journey, I've gleaned deeper meaning from this intimate encounter with Mary, the Angel Gabriel and our Lord.

May Mary bring you comfort this Lent. Know that she is with you in the desert right now and always. Mother filled with anguish, pray for us. Mary, walk with me in my own Garden of Gethsemane. To help me understand, as you and Jesus did, that it is my “yes” that will bring me peace after the agony.

How often are we ignored? Made to feel that because our bodies can’t do this specific thing or look a certain way, we matter less. All we want is to be seen. Even if we are not gifted like young Matilda, we all have talents and interests, things that should be celebrated instead of tolerated or flat-out rejected.