Facing pregnancy announcements: a reflection on the parable of the prodigal son

There was a time in my infertility journey when I would hold my breath every time I logged into my social media accounts. I dreaded the all too familiar way my heart would drop whenever a new pregnancy announcement popped into my feed. The reaction came quickly and sharply before I could filter it – a hard punch of pain, followed by a slowly building jealousy. Always, it was rounded out by shame – HOW could I feel such ugly feelings in light of new life? What is WRONG with me? 

The fact that my hurt and sadness also coexisted with a genuine happiness for the woman sharing her news was confusing and exhausting.

Of course, I also found that the severity of my reaction depended on the circumstances of my life at that moment – particularly where I was at in my cycle. There were truly times the announcements of others made me feel joyous and hopeful without so much as a negative thought. But other times, (oftentimes), I found myself reeling inside when I encountered the joy of another in face of my own emptiness and longing. I wrestled to reconcile the truth about what I should feel with the reality of what I actually felt. For a long, long time, I bore this burden selfishly – in that, I tried to do it by myself. I expected myself to simply “be better” and tried to push my feelings aside entirely with the weak hope that one day, this solution would prove successful. 

It took a long time of softening and molding my heart before I finally received the message the Holy Spirit was patiently repeating over and over to my aching heart : “what you are striving to do, daughter, is not what God is calling you to do.” It came to me one evening while praying with the parable of the Prodigal Son (something I highly recommend to any of my dear sisters wandering the desert of infertility). More and more I was beginning to find similarities between myself and the older brother in the story. Infertility had given me an empathy for him I’d never had in prior readings of this Scripture, and I saw my own feelings mirrored in his reaction to the Father’s lavish reception of his sinful younger brother. “What about ME, Father? What have you given me, for all my years of faithful service to you? Why do you so readily bless him, when I’ve been here all along beside you?” The young man’s words pierced my heart for I recognized them as my own. How often had I witnessed the pregnancy announcements of those around me and plastered a smile on my face while interiorly bemoaning “Why not me? Why are you blessing her and not me? How have I not yet earned your favor? I’ve been faithful through it all: through miscarriage, through treatments, through waiting, through the valley of the shadow of death. So WHY won’t you bless me, too?” At the heart of all my questioning was the one pondering too painful to say aloud “Why are you holding out on me God? Why have you forsaken me?” 

As I sat across from my spiritual director reflecting on this passage, I pressed into that question in a way I hadn’t before. I felt my heart tear open as I poured out my longing, anger and heartache before the Lord. I allowed myself to be the older brother, to feel his envy and betrayal as I spoke to my merciful Father. The gentleness in His response astounded me as He whispered quietly to my heart: “Daughter, everything I have is yours.” 

In all my readings of this scripture, I had somehow missed the poignancy of this line, but in my brokenness I found myself reading it with new eyes. I sat there, stunned and He repeated again “Daughter, everything I have is yours.” 

I had expected Him to berate me, to scold my jealousy and rebuke my hostility. Instead, He received it and responded with a generosity beyond all comparison. Most beautiful of all was the promise woven deep into those words: “I am not holding out on you, daughter. I am not withholding my Goodness. All I have is yours. My blessings, my cross, my heart. It all belongs to you.” Finally, I understood what the Holy Spirit meant when He prodded patiently again “what you are striving to do, daughter, is not what God is calling you to do.” 

Ah, so bearing the burden alone and faking it till I make it is not what’s being asked of me? I felt myself exhale as tears of relief slid quietly down my cheeks. That place of encounter and healing began to fill me up with a grace I hadn’t experienced before. It lightened the burden and sweetened the ache of longing, so that it became less like the sear of an open wound and more akin to the burn of a muscle that has been exerted in physical labor: painful, yet purposeful.

I could now see how every instance of experiencing another’s joy in the face of my own longing is sacred ground meant for deep personal encounter with my Father: an opportunity to allow Him to transform me from the embittered older sibling into the receptive prodigal daughter, who, moved by my hunger and longing, goes to Him only to find that He is already running full force towards me.  

Now, when I witness, hear or read a pregnancy announcement, whether from a loved one or a stranger, I can recognize the three moving parts happening in that moment: the first being my natural reaction, whatever it is, whether sadness and jealousy or joy or even some strange mixture of them all. I know now that I am not being asked to not react, or to not feel whatever my heart naturally feels, for these are very much welcome and received by my Father. The choice is in what comes next. I can now clearly see the two paths beyond that reaction: give in to the temptation to sit in it by myself and reap the fruits of bitterness, resentment or self-pity, OR accept the invitation from the Father to sit in my grief and share it with Him, recognizing that He is already there in it, ready to bless me with the feast of His love.

Then, by His grace alone, I can claim the truth that the blessings He bestows upon others are not to my detriment, because His Kingdom is one of abundance, not scarcity. Everything He has to offer in that Kingdom, sister, is ours to claim, including the cross which brings about a salvation and victory that is uniquely ours.

He is for us. He has not forsaken us. 

Emmanuel. He is WITH us.