I Didn't Know "Open to Life" Would Be *This* Hard

Before we were married, and way before we knew infertility was going to be an issue, I had a pretty clear image of what it would mean to take our "open to life" vow seriously...

BabiesbabiesbabiesbabiesbabiesbabiesBABIES!

No wait, that's what the rest of the (non-Catholic) world thinks "open to life" means.

After equipping myself with the knowledge of this awesome science called the Creighton Model and getting the hang of the Church's teaching on Natural Family Planning (NFP), my image was a little more like...

Get married.
Avoid pregnancy using NFP for a year.
Baby.
Avoid pregnancy using NFP for another year.
Baby.
Avoid pregnancy using NFP for a year or two.
Baby.
Avoid pregnancy using NFP for another few years.
Last baby.
Lots of avoiding pregnancy using NFP in my late 30s and all of my 40s until...
Menopause.

... all the while discerning at each step along the way if we really had grave reasons to avoid or postpone pregnancy. It definitely seemed like it would be hard at times, but I was up for the challenge.

And all that probably sounds like what you'd expect of your typical fertile Catholic wanting a larger family and excited about embracing the Church's "open to life" teaching.

I also imagined "open to life" would mean...

Lots of sleepless nights.
Wrinkes and gray hairs and a saggy stomach.
No more vacations for a while.
No more casual hang outs with friends for a while.
Spending approximately $1,000,000 on groceries per month.
A slave to my washer and dryer for the rest of my life.
Getting into serious debates about [insert commonly debated baby thing here] with other moms all the time.
Never being able to poop or shower in private.
Having my ears attacked by cheesy kids tunes and cheesy kids movies all day long.
Cheerios all over my car.
Cheerios all over my house.
Cheerios all over my life.
Multitasking like a mad woman.
Acting as a mediator between fighting children.
Contantly worring about my children for any and every reason imaginable.
Desperately pleading with God for NFP to work so we can avoid having yet another one right now.
Spending all our savings sending our kids off to Catholic school or college or getting them married.
Becoming a teacher, maid, chef, role model, parent, and saint, all in one.

Gosh, that sounds like A LOT. It would definitely not be easy to be that selfless for so many baby-growing, child-raising, teen-shaping years. What you are doing is hard, reeeeally hard. So, to those of you in the trenches -- I salute you! And look up to you! And am in awe of all you do.

But, I'm also extremely jealous.

Yes, that's right. Jealous.

You may think I'm entirely crazy, completely out-of-my-mind nuts for being jealous of what you do. But it's the honest truth. As I sit here typing this, right here and now, I'm BEGGING God to give me all those challenges of parenthood. BEGGING Him.

Because at this point in my life, "open to life" doesn't look the same way for me as it does for you. Not at all. Sure, I get to be intimate with my husband whenever I want without having to worry about conceiving "at the wrong time." Sure, I get to pick up and go on vacations or go out with friends at the drop of a hat. Sure, my car and house and life are devoid of Cheerios. But I'd trade all of that, and way more, for everything you have, easy.

When I reflect on what I used to think "open to life" looks like, at first it seems like I'm not really living that vow at all. But the reality is "open to life" just takes on a whole new meaning when you're struggling through infertility.

If you've ever....

Sought the best doctors to get answers about your infertility...
Had very invasive treatments and surgeries involving your "private parts"...
Tried several different medications (that often make you crazy) to heal your broken, infertile body...
Changed your diet to increase your odds of conception...
Timed intercourse cycle after cycle to catch that perfect moment...
Done everything in your human power to conceive a child...
Opened your heart to the roller coaster of adoption...
Let go of your dreams of having your children look like the perfect mix of you and your spouse...
Filled your home with baby items before any indication that a baby is coming your way...
Put yourself out there to be possibly "rejected" by a birthmom...
Chosen to go forward with an adoption, even when you knew it was a risky situation...
Opened your home to a child from a hard place...
Let go of all you thought parenting would be so that you could be the perfect parent for your adopted child...
Found other ways to using your mothering skills...
Ministered to the needs of the poor, hungry, dying, marginalized, hospitalized...
Become a spiritual mother to those around you...
Celebrated the pregnancy, birth, and adoption announcements of everyone around you, because you really are happy about new life! (while inside your heart is breaking and a good ugly cry is about to pour out)...
Woken up still saying YES to every day, even though you know it'll be another childless one.

... then you're absolutely, positively "open to life" too. Even without a bunch of babies to show for it. We may not look "open to life" to that random stranger, but we know in our hearts we are. None of this would hurt so much if we didn't say YES to LIFE with all that we have, every single moment of every single day. You're in the trenches too, my friend, just not the same trenches you thought you'd be in.

I used to think "open to life" meant having lots and lots of babies, whenever God wanted us to, and I knew that had the potential to be challenging. But my "openness to life" isn't like that at all. It's far different than what I imagined it would be.

Is one harder than the other? I'm obviously not sure. I don't know what it's like to be a mom yet. But if I had to guess, based on who I am and how I feel today, I'd rather be struggling to keep up with all my babies than have no babies at all. I'd also guess that most folks would feel that way too.

While we don't lack sleep or free time or money, we lack something much bigger, much more meaningful... We lack the ability to co-create life. We lack the love in our hearts that only a parent knows. We lack a very special kind of joy.

What I know most of all is this: when being "open to life" with all that you have doesn't actually result in a creating new life, it hurts a lot.

My prayers are with all of you who are "open to life" in this non-traditional, unexpected way. You're beautiful, you're strong, and your life is full of meaning, even without 10 kids in tow.

Father, your will be done. We are open to life, but most importantly we are open to you, the Author of Life. Take our lives and let them be whatever you desire for us, wherever that may lead. And let us feel at peace through it all. Amen.