I am somewhat ashamed to admit that when I first learned that the theme of the Jubilee Year was “hope”, I just about physically gagged. My relationship with the idea, the virtue, the gift of hope, after 10+ years of infertility… let’s just say it’s a bit rocky.

I must admit that at times, I have had a challenging relationship with our Blessed Mother. It is something that I am working through. In my weakest moments, I envy Mary. Here I am, with a barren womb, empty and broken. Yet Mary immaculately conceived Jesus at a young age. She simply said “yes” to God’s will and suddenly she was pregnant. That is the impression we get sometimes, isn’t it? What could the Mother of God know of infertility or the long wait toward adoptive parenth

The call to surrender – to let go  and let God – is woven into the very fabric of our identity as Christians; but it is known in a particular way by those women bearing the burden of infertility. Those of us who have experienced the agony of being unable to conceive when it is the deepest desire of our hearts know without a doubt what it means to yield to a reality we cannot control.  I think that’s why, at one point in my journey, “surrender” became a trigger word for me. It

Through prayer, we find ourselves relying on saints and angels that hold specific missions or roles to help us heal and navigate our struggle. Through tears, prayer became my solace and comfort. I found saints I may never have encountered had it not been for infertility. I also realized angels and archangels could be powerful allies and friends. As we celebrate the feast of the archangel this week, I have chosen to take each archangel and show how they can be a great friend t

Trying to conceive while dealing with infertility comes with intense emotions. Each new treatment, supplement or surgery can fill us with the possibility that “this, surely, will be the month!” often to only be met by deep despair when we see that, once again, this month is not our month for the pregnancy we have longed for for so long. How do we continue forward in hope, leaving room for the possibility for God to work a miracle, all while not setting ourselves up for an emo

When we stood at the altar, the priest looked us in the eyes and asked: “Will you accept children lovingly from God?” Our response was an exuberant: “We will.” And we meant it. We were assured: be open to life, and life will come. Be faithful. Be patient. Be generous. Be hopeful. So we waited. And waited. And waited. We didn't know it would hurt this much, but we said yes to life. And we’d say yes again.

One particularly painful manifestation of toxic positivity and prosperity Gospel in Christian infertility circles is the emphasis that every couple in scripture who experienced infertility eventually had a child. We should remember that for every barren woman turned mother in scripture, many others were never blessed with children. When we present only the “success stories,” we inadvertently suggest that those still waiting simply haven’t waited long enough or prayed hard eno

I am never content with the blessings that I have, but I see the next step, the next milestone, the next blessing I want. I'm single minded in my prayer, only talking to God about what I think I need. I fail to take into account all the blessings I do have, ignoring the fact that I used to pray for all the things I have now. I feel as if God is holding back from me the very thing that will make me happy, holy, the best version of myself.

Infertility is deeply personal. Some people might choose to “suffer in silence” because for personal reasons they don't want to talk about infertility with many others. Some people feel they can't because it's taboo in their culture or family. Some may have tried to talk about it and didn't receive a supportive response. There are many reasons you might remain private about your infertility so we opened up the discussion to some of our writers to share their experiences. 

I have learned from Joachim and Anne that persistent prayer changes us more than it changes our circumstances. After seven years of praying for a child, I’ve discovered that some of my most profound moments with God have come when I’ve run out of words. Like old friends who can sit together without speaking, I’m learning to simply be in God’s presence with my longing. Joachim and Anne must have experienced this too.