Sometimes I am purely amazed at how a column writes itself. Today's letter starts off with a letter from a young and childless mother who wanted to know what she's supposed to do with her life. No sooner had I written a response to her than the next two letters I opened were follow-ups to the comments I had written.

If today's letters have a theme, it didn't come from me. Days like this make me glad to be doing this column for Meridian.

I am 31 years old and struggling with the infertility issue.  I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome eighteen months ago.  I knew something was not right but had been going from doctor to doctor trying to get the mystery solved. 

When I finally had a diagnosis I was relieved because I then knew I was not crazy.  What I didn't realize was what was ahead of me.  Although there is a chance that I can get pregnant, the chances are small and miscarriage is very likely.  I have been told I can go through fertility treatments but it is very expensive and not a guarantee.  In order to get to this point your body needs to cooperate and is not doing so.  I am on different pills and have not had a change so far. 

I am trying so hard to stay positive.  I know that there is a plan for all of us.  It is very difficult to answer the question of "You're 31 and don't have kids yet?"  My response is usually "I can't have them."  At least it stops people from asking. 

I was raised in the Church and always envisioned being a mother.  I also feel like I am cheating my husband from this experience.  The gospel is centered around family and having kids.  At this point I am not sure where we fit in.  We don't fit in with the people our age because they have several kids and are busy raising them.  The couples that don't have children are a lot younger than us and we don't have a lot in common with them. 

I have started isolating myself and feel very distraught.  As each year goes by with no change I get very discouraged.  I am all ears and would love some advice from someone that is further down the road.  I just want to know that if children are not in the plan for my husband and me, that it's ok.  I am tired of feeling the guilt that comes with infertility.   

Rachelle in Nevada

Thanks for your letter, Rachelle.  Having been down your road, I understand where you're coming from.  I hope the columns in Meridian are helpful. 

In my own experience, I have found that nurturing takes a whole lot of different forms. It is not just children who need mothering. There are a whole lot of adults out there — many of them right in your ward — who need to feel loved and valued because they are adrift in their own lives.

As I've aged, I've seen my own focus gravitate toward those people who need to be reminded that they have value. Some people concentrate on being missionaries and bringing people into the Church. Clark and I find ourselves focusing on people who are already in the Church, but who feel as though they're on the fringes. If we can invite them into our home or otherwise show them how valuable they are to our community — and how the whole community would suffer if they weren't there — sometimes it helps them get through another day.

I do believe that if we don't have children, there's a reason for it. Some people just need to learn perseverance — if they work hard enough at it, these are the people who can eventually have their own biological children. (We have a friend who has had at least twenty-nine miscarriages on her way to bearing almost-six children — and she stopped giving me the count years ago. If that's not perseverance, I don't know what is!)

Others are meant to seek out children through other means. Adoption may be the answer — or even foster care. 

But it may be that God has something entirely different set up for you. Instead of praying to get pregnant, you and your husband may want to pray to find out what the Lord wants the two of you to do in life.  Once you put things in His hands, you may be surprised where the road takes you.  But one thing is certain:  It will be exactly the road you were meant to take.

**

No sooner had I mentioned foster care to Rachelle than I received two letters in a row that mentioned foster care and throwaway children. Apparently there are some readers (and I don't know which ones you are) who need to hear that message today. Here are those letters:

After 38 years of marriage, writing about our years of childlessness followed by the years of wanting more children still brings many emotions to the surface. I still remember how painful it was and how many buckets of tears were cried.

We were married and in pursuit of pregnancy with the available infertility workups at the time for more than eight years. We never thought we would become the couple that adopted a child and then gave birth to a biological child, but that is exactly what happened. When our oldest son was six months old, we achieved that elusive pregnancy. I remember one woman in our ward that rubbed my tummy and said "Aren't you excited?" I actually told her that I wasn't. The reason I wasn't excited was that I had a very miserable early pregnancy and felt that I was missing some very important things in our son's development.

When our daughter was born our son was 14 months old. When they were small I had a very strong impression that they were meant to be in the same home. We had always wanted to have a large family. We had talked about six children as a number. But we never achieved pregnancy again.

Due to my husband's military career we moved several times. When we moved to our last assignment before retirement we began to think about becoming foster parents. Several families in our ward were involved in fostering and encouraged us to pursue that goal.

Then along came Desert Storm. We had never lived near a stake patriarch until this assignment.  As we were preparing for my husband to support Desert Storm, we decided to get our patriarchal blessings. He received his before he left and mine was scheduled a few weeks later.   I remember vividly that when the patriarch mentioned children during the blessing that he mentioned the number 2. I had nobody there with me to verify what I know I heard. I came away from the meeting with the patriarch saying to myself, OK we won't pursue fostering and we will be happy with the children we have.  Then the typed copy of the blessing arrived. No matter how many times I read that blessing I never read the number 2 in reference to the number of children.

After my husband returned and after lengthy conversations, we began the process of becoming foster parents. Over the course of about five years we had more than 20 foster children come to us. Many of them left either by returning to their biological families or being placed in other foster homes. However, they didn't all leave. After we retired from the military we adopted five of those foster children. They now range from 16 years to 10 years of age.

They are truly a second family. They all have their own special needs. We have dealt with tiny babies that have needed vigilance as they struggle to overcome poor prenatal environments, 5-year-olds that have had more experiences in their lifetime than we have had in more than 40, therapies of all kinds, as well as having one of our children diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 3 before he was adopted. That diagnosis — and the resulting hospitalization and family separation — is certainly not what we would have hoped for. But, when we received that diagnosis it became obvious to us that we did not see this child as any different from a child we would have given birth to. We simply made the arrangements and adjustments that needed to be made to get him the medical care he needed. That left my husband at home with our oldest two children (16 & 15 years old at the time) and two foster children (4 & 2 years old) while I packed up to accompany the 3-year-old to a hospital a five-hour flight away. He and I lived near that hospital for six months while he underwent treatment that could not be provided at home. 

At this writing, we are the parents of 7 children ages 29, 28, 16, 15, 14, 10 & 10 (not twins). We are the proud grandparents of 3 ages 6, 3, and almost 2.  We wouldn't have it any other way. But when we were in the throes of infertility workups and subsequent years of fewer children than planned, I found it difficult to attend church on Mothers Day, ward activities with a family focus, and similar events.

As a result of our experiences, I try to be sensitive to the feelings of others. I try to point out to my children that we never know why a particular person behaves a certain way, why they have only one child or no children, why a woman is working outside the home. We just don't live inside anyone else's four walls and can't judge anyone based on observation.

AKma2many

Thanks, Alaska Mom to Many. I especially appreciated your observation that parenting is parenting, whether or not you actually produced the child yourself. And later on in this column, we'll explore your reminder that people shouldn't judge the motives of others — but nobody said it any better than you.

I am a 58-year-old woman who has never been able to have biological children. I have suffered from the pain of infertility for many years. I'm a nurse so I spent part of my career in the nurseries of many hospitals to get my “baby fix.”

My first husband had had a vasectomy, so we tried artificial insemination, and donors. It is cost-prohibitive to have it too often, but we did five courses and three of them took. I lost each of them at between four and six weeks.

We then decided that we would try adoption. Well, that too is very expensive, but we found two little girls who needed parents. They were about to be released for adoption and come to us, when my husband left for another woman. So I couldn't take them.

During my second marriage we took in a teenager who was pregnant with her first child. She could not stay at home under the circumstances, so she came to me. I knew the Lord sent her to me, so I worked very hard to build a relationship with this very troubled teenager. I became a grandma four months after I became a mom. She presented me with two additional grandchildren over the next few years. Then her marriage fell apart and I had my three grandchildren for several years while she went to school. I formally adopted her during that time. She was 25. Then I moved to another state and married again. This time my husband was a widower and had five grown children. In the 11 years since we married, our six children have provided us with 27 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

I have learned that families are made in all sorts of ways. I have made a difference in many children's lives. I have many nieces and nephews, and great nieces and nephews, I my friends' kids and grandkids. All who make a difference in my life. I may not have produced biological children, but ask my grandchildren who I am.

You know even though I am grateful for the progeny that I have, I still have a void in my life that wants to be filled. We are now doing foster care. So you see even though my body did not cooperate, and I am post-menopausal, we have a 15-year-old daughter who will be with us until she graduates. There are lots of throw-away kids out there who desperately want to be part of a good eternal family. It is not that hard to be a foster parent. And many of these kids have their parents' rights terminated, so you can adopt them and make a family. I have.

Jo Marie Miller

What a great story, Jo Marie! I love hearing stories of throwaway children who find homes. It's one thing to adopt a newborn baby, but it takes courage of a different sort to take in a child who has been tossed around by life. Those children can be found in every city in the United States. All too many of them never find the security and love they need.

Read on for letters from readers who not only had to suffer the pains of infertility, but who also had to endure the unthinking comments of ward members and friends.

We joke that maybe we should not sleep in a bunk bed, make or other comments to deflect highly personal and frankly none-of-their-business remarks.  By doing this with humor we get by.

Adoption is a possibility, but we know not everyone is able to adopt.  We fear that at 43 we'll be passed
over by birth mothers. Instead, we now plan on a future full-time mission.

M.

Thanks for your letter, M. It's good to hear that you are looking at other alternatives if the door to parenthood is closed for you. A full-time mission sounds good to my husband and me, too!

My name is Kathy Blose and I live in Las Vegas in the Central Stake. 

One of my good LDS friends back in Pennsylvania, Cathy Long, was unable to ever have children. Someone said to her and her husband Harry that it was a good thing they didn't get to have kids because they are blind!  That was very low of the person and ignorant! (And it really set off Harry!)

I used to ask Cathy to watch our youngest daughter, Dalena, when my husband and I went to the temple down in Washington, DC. Cathy was truly the  best  qualified of anyone I knew in the whole area to care for our daughter because no one knew how to care for diabetes like Cathy — and Dalena is insulin- dependent.  Dalena was safe, happy and very well cared for by the Longs.

I have a great appreciation for Cathy because she has taught me that the important thing is accepting and respecting others as they are — not pitying or rejecting or judging them. 

No one has the right to judge a person for not having a child.

Kathy in Las Vegas

Thanks for a great quote, Kathy — and a valuable lesson on taking care not to judge others.

Here's a letter from someone else who has been the recipient of some misplaced “help” in regards to infertility:

This has been a large part of my life in the church. After eight years of marriage I discovered the reason for my failure to conceive. After nine years my husband left me. It took me twenty years to get over it. I felt like the barren woman in Israel. God had turned his face from me, and chosen not to bless me in the one way that would bring me joy and acceptance among women. 

While I was married I got the whole gamut of reactions, suggestions, and criticisms in the Church. I got sexual predators who wanted to "help" me and my husband conceive. Adoption in my state was limited to people under a certain age, and we had already reached that age when we learned the reason for our infertility. (I say "our" because infertility is a problem of couples). My husband would not consider adoption, and at that time Latter-day Saints were way down the list of suitable parents for adoption.

Years of disappointment followed the divorce. Only in my fifties did I start to believe there was hope of happiness without spouse and children. With age has come confidence, better mental health, and the rewards of loyalty to Church.  I am glad to have reached an age when men no longer pursue me, I don't have to explain my position to local leaders or members, and I have learned to be very glad that I don't have children, grandchildren, or even a husband to occupy my entire life.

I can now do some of the things I want to do, instead of feeling I must sacrifice my own interests and enjoyment. The downside is that as I care for an aged and disabled mother I wonder what will happen to me in later years with no children to rely on.

I do wish God had told me earlier that I could do many of the things I'm doing now.

The biggest problem was lack of any suitable role or role model for women in my position in the Church. There were no childless married women I could relate to, and a lack of friends or peers with whom I could share experience. Church meetings and classes and talks inevitably involve teachings on the family. My family had no patience with the Church, and society generally cannot understand why we don't have "relationships" first before we marry.

Being both single and childless is acceptable in society, but is no fun for a woman in the Church. I'd have been more acceptable divorced with children! I was indeed the barren woman in Israel.   It was assumed I did not want children, or had no ability to work with children, or had placed a career before children. I had to find my own way. I had to learn to listen to God, and not look to other people for help and encouragement they could not give.

I know now that adoption would have brought many problems, especially for a mixed race child. Until I knew more of my genealogy I was unaware I could have passed on genetic risk of serious illness to children of my own. No one would want to do that. At church I still hear a lot of rubbish spoken about marriage, women, infertility, and mental health. I think ignorance (lack of education — particularly science and biology) is a big problem for women of my generation in the Church. 

I am grateful for education, friends, Jesus Christ, the Book of Mormon, and the temple. I am grateful for useful things to do. But if I had my time again I would do some things differently. Stay faithful to Christ, but look outside the square for creative help to live your life.

Barbara Smith
Queensland

Thanks for a thoughtful letter, Barbara. One of the advantages of the complex time we live in is that we're starting to see female role models in the Church who are from all walks of life. I was excited to see the Young Women of the Church being led by a woman who was childless (Ardeth Kapp), and it was equally exciting to see Sheri Dew, a single woman, represent all women of the Church when she served in the Relief Society presidency. I'm hoping that people who are just setting out today will have it easier in a lot of ways than we older people do. For one thing, the epidemic of infertility has provided a much bigger pool of childless women in local wards than there were when we were that age. Talk about a mixed blessing!

Now that we've read several letters from people who have not been helped by ward members, it's refreshing to see one from a couple who have. Read on to see what Mindy has to say:

I just had to write something really quickly.  My husband and I have been trying for over five years to get pregnant (pretty much since we got married).  I was diagnosed with endometriosis.  This disease has caused several problems, including lots of pain and discomfort.  So on top of feeling like I was unworthy to be a mother, I have had true physical pain as well.  

I know everyone is different and handles their situations differently.  I will tell you that one of the things that has made my life easier is the ease with which I share our struggles.  At first it was hard to be so open with others, especially since they constantly ask how long we've been married, and of course the next question is either ”Do you have kids” or ”When are you going to have kids”.  

At first I said some day. Then I started telling people we wanted them and were waiting for them, but then people starting looking at me different expecting to see my stomach grow.  I eventually learned it was easy to share with others that we can't have children right now.  I think they sometimes feel bad for asking and about 90% of the time, they apologize to me.  I tell them it's okay, that I am dealing with the situation, and that we haven't given up hope or the faith that one day we will be parents either through our own or adoption.  

Because I have been so open with everyone, I am never looked on as being different.  In fact, I am now the nursery leader in my ward — which I am sure never would have happened if I hadn't told everyone in our “welcome to the ward” talks that we were trying and that we couldn't, but that we were okay.  

In fact, when we went to our specialist recently to talk about in-vitro (which is just about our only chance of having kids), she said that we were some of the best adjusted people that she had seen.  I blame my family and friends for that.  They have all prayed for us over and over again.

I cannot tell you how good it feels to know that we have those we love and trust praying for us, submitting our names to the temple, and being able to open and frank with them.  It also has allowed me to still be invited to baby showers, and other events, and has opened the door for many others to feel comfortable sharing their own personal struggles and trials with us.  Mother's Days and Father's Days are still hard, but it always feels good when the young men are passing out flowers to have them come and give me one even though I don't ever stand up to get one.  They still recognize my potential and my desire.  

One last thing I wanted to share with you is when we first started down this trek and every month I would cry and get depressed, I realized that I had stopped praying — feeling like my Heavenly Father could never understand what I felt like because my husband never fully understands what it feels like not to be a mother.  I read all the scriptures about Christ suffering everything so that we wouldn't, but I didn't understand how he could understand my pain not to be a mother, when he never can be a mother.  

Then I realized that the godhead all support each other, and the silent member we never really discuss, our Heavenly Mother, was there and that she understood.  There were several times when I knew I was praying to my heavenly Father in Jesus' name, but told him I needed my Heavenly Mother to fully understand my pain and trials.  

I have felt peace, knowing that my Heavenly Father has spoken to my Heavenly Mother and that she is there and understands me and what I am going through.  She is like my earthly mother, who is there no matter what I decide and what happens to me.  She knows my pains and therefore my Heavenly Father and Jesus have been able to understand the pain I am going through.  It has strengthened my testimony and truly helped me to realize that they all love me, and that they want me to be happy.  

I am still not there — I still don't have children — but I know that no matter what happens in this life, my heavenly parents do not think any less of me or love me any less than they do those that do have children on this earth.

I hope that this has been of some comfort and help to some of you as I have gone through this myself. Above all, we must remain faithful.  

Mindy
Sacramento, California

Thanks, Mindy, for reminding all of us that most people intend to be kind to us — even when they fail. Your cues gave ward members clues for how you wanted to be treated, and they responded in the best possible way.

We'll end today's comments with two success stories, both of which were written by women who had children after some effort, but who realize the road only begins with childbirth:

My husband and I have been married for six years. After our first year, we started trying to have children. At first, the negative pregnancy tests were no big deal. After all, I had read it sometimes can take six months for a woman's cycle to regulate after birth control. But after nine months, I went to my doctor. Most books advised me to wait at least a year, but I'm not the waiting kind.

With charts and basal temperature records in hand, I went to my appointment. He did a quick exam and prescribed me Clomid. I can't believe how agonizing the decision as to whether or not to take the medicine was, when it turned out to be the most minor decision we would make. I took the medicine for six months as instructed, with no luck. I found a reproductive endocrinologist, and my husband and I jumped head-first into the poking, prodding, embarrassment that is the life of an infertile couple.

Thousands of dollars and six months later we decided to bite the bullet and do IVF. We got our miracle. It worked. She is now two, and in January, we tried again. It worked again, but I had a miscarriage at eight weeks. I knew from the minute I got a positive home pregnancy test that something wasn't right. I don't know how; I just knew it. So I agonized for weeks praying I was wrong, or praying that if I was right, something would happen now so I could move on.

I think all infertile women should be exempt from miscarriage. What a cruel joke of nature! I have since sent away to two agencies for adoption information, but I'm not there yet. We are going to try IVF again in a few months.

I can relate to not going to church on Mother's Day. It's the worst day of the year. All holidays are hard, but that one made me hurt in places I didn't know could hurt. I struggled for a while with my testimony and church attendance. I questioned God and had terrible thoughts that I'm embarrassed to repeat.

My sister-in-law has just crossed the year mark. The weird thing is I don't know what to say to her. One would think I would be the best person to say the right thing. But I'm at a loss for words. I feel so stupid about that. We were called to speak in sacrament on Mother's Day. What a weird day for us to speak. I'm excited and afraid at the same time. I love my mom, and my husband's mom and I adore being a mother, but what about people in the ward who can't have children? I want to speak to them too. Any ideas?

I'm so glad you are doing this. This is such a sensitive topic with some pretty new, cutting-edge science involved. It's mind-boggling to me when I tell people we did IVF so our daughter could come to our family and they don't know what it is.

I have learned so much from this experience, which is easy to say since we had success, but the biggest lesson is to never assume anything about someone. It would have been easy for people who didn't know me to assume we made the decision to not have children, when in fact it was our deepest desire. We never know what's going on in someone else's life, and it's not for us to judge them. That is for the Lord.

Tina Mattsson
Salt Lake City, Utah

Thanks for a great letter, Tina. Thanks especially for the reminder that we shouldn't assume that people are childless for any standard reason. People have difficulties that none of us can know.

As for Mother's Day, I heard a friend say just this week that the most inspiring Mother's Day talk she had ever heard was from a woman who told the ward about all the mothers in her life — not just her real mothers, but the women whose teachings and whose examples taught her how to be a decent human being. Some were Primary teachers or Relief Society teachers, and some were the same age as she was. The speaker talked about several women specifically, describing what she had learned from each of these motherly women. Maybe something like that would help.

Dear Kathy,

I read and reread your article on your experiences with coping with infertility.  Your story said it all.  It would have helped me so much to have read it years ago when going through the same trials. The only thought that seemed to help me at the time was that I was worth more than the sum of a few ounces of uterus and ovaries.

Today I wish I could put my arms around the younger me and tell me to spend my time strengthening my marriage, finishing my education, and using my spare time having adventures with my husband.  I regret wasting precious years of my life agonizing over something I had no control over, and letting myself wallow in a spiritual rut, which must have delighted the adversary, no doubt. 

So I'd like to reach out to "reader in Colorado" and tell her, regardless of what the outcome is in her life, that her life is precious and has meaning beyond what she is able to see right at this moment. Life doesn't turn out the way we plan — even with righteous living or a patriarchal blessing with promises of children.  

After eight years I got pregnant (we still don't know how — well, we do, but not why it took so long) and suddenly had to figure out a way to live on one income in Southern California.  We managed apartments and searched for creative ways to pay our bills and eat.  We still had trials, just different ones. 

I'd like to share two thoughts on motherhood.  First, no matter how many scrapbooks you make, your children will decide what memories to pass on.  One favorite was my 50th birthday.  The day came and went without even a "Happy Birthday, Mom" and as I was leaving to go to work that evening an ugly mood came over me and as I left through the front door I screeched "Well, just &*%^ this family!", slammed the door really hard, and cried all the way to work.  They had never heard that vile word come out of my mouth before or since, but it is now a family legend that gets a good laugh.  I now wish I had actually kept those journals we are supposed to keep, with spiritual thoughts and wisdom to pass down to future generations, to counterbalance the really awful stuff they will likely hear about me. 

The second thought is that your children will embarrass you. A lot.  One Father's Day, our bishop's wife was presenting the sharing time.  She told the kids that her father had died many years before and said sadly, "Now children, I want you all to go home today and tell your fathers how much you love them, because I would do anything to be able to see my father one more time."

At that point my son raised his hand and said helpfully, "Well, you could go get a shovel and dig him up."  That's not exactly a Latter-day Laugh. 

Jody Sparkuhl,
Riverside, CA

I laughed all day about the shovel story, Jody. It's similar to one in my own family, which is absolutely not on topic but which I will share because — well, because I can.

When my father died, my young niece couldn't understand where Grandpa had gone. My sister sat Kelly down and told her that Grandpa had died, and it was time for him to go to heaven. Kelly accepted that as well as she could, and all was fine for a month or two.

One day Kelly walked in the bathroom just in time to see my sister flushing the pet goldfish down the toilet. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Susie said, “Well, the goldfish has died and now he's gone to heaven.”

Kelly looked down into the toilet bowl, with a look of pure wonder on her face. Then she asked, “How'd you get Grandpa down there?”

**

We'll have more comments on the subject of infertility (not “sea burials”) next week. Till then, if you have comments on this topic or suggestions for another, send your email to circleofsisters@meridianmagazine.com.  Put something in the subject line that will let me know your letter isn't spam.  And when you write, be sure to include your full name, city and state or province or country. (If you'd rather be semi-anonymous, sign your name as “A Reader from Michigan” or “Sandy from Timbuktu.” The important thing is that we hear from you.)

Until next week — Kathy

“Never have children — only grandchildren.”

Gore Vidal
American writer, 1925-