Church is a hard place to be when you’re struggling with infertility.

Church is a hard place to be when you’re grieving your baby who recently died.

Church is a hard place to be when you’re new in town.

Church is a hard place to be during a pandemic.

The past year has been a difficult year for me personally: new in town, during a pandemic, and recovering from a stillbirth. Years before this, we experienced 7 years of infertility. I’ve found these seasons of my life to be tough times to really connect with others in a church. Some might say that it’s okay to stay home and do church online. Especially throughout 2020/2021, for those with health risks or living in high-covid areas, home church just might be the right thing for a period of time. For some people, like my friends with a houseful of older children, home church means a mini-church service, including a beautiful time of praise and worship when the entire family brings out their instruments and sings their hearts out to God.

Something I felt deeply in this past year of on-again-off-again church attendance is that I desperately need connection with the body of Christ. I need to be with other Christians – EVEN in the hardest times. Maybe even ESPECIALLY in the hardest times.

I needed fellowship with believers during our years of infertility, even though I was walking into the sanctuary with grief and heartache while other women my age were entering the room with a pregnant belly or a baby in their arms.

I’ve needed the body of Christ this past year when I felt lonely, having moved to a new place and a new culture at the beginning of the (very isolating) pandemic.

After our baby was stillborn in December, it was hard to go back to the church we had sort-of been attending. I felt like everyone who knew us there would think of us as “the couple whose baby died.” I wanted a fresh start at another church. We contemplated that, then returned to the community that walked with us before and during the sudden loss of our baby. At the same time, I’ve connected with a group of women from another local church. I’m so grateful for the body of Christ found in these women, in these churches.

I’ve been working on this blog post for about five years. I write from the viewpoint of a woman who loves going to church and who loves being part of a church family. Even when I don’t feel like going, or at those times when I’ve felt unhappy with my church for some reason, I still attend and participate because it’s an important part of my life as a Christian. Before the pandemic, I could count on one hand the times I had simply not gone to church for any reason other than major sickness, major travel, or having to be at work. All of those days when I simply skipped church were Mother’s Day, when my heart was breaking during infertility. (We also “home churched” often during the peak of the pandemic.)

I’d like to share several reasons why going to church can feel especially difficult when you’re struggling with infertility or loss:

Church is where we encounter the presence of God. That’s ultimately a good thing! But it can feel very emotional. God is the One who designed families and parenthood and reproduction. When we go to church and sing about His goodness and faithfulness, tears might leak out of our eyes or run down our faces. In that moment we might wonder, “God, are you really being good to me by allowing year after year of barrenness?” When I stood in the sanctuary to worship in the middle of our years of infertility, I would find myself wondering, “God, you told us to be fruitful and multiply – so why aren’t you letting it happen?” Church is difficult for Christians facing infertility, because there we are faced with hard questions about God. And we might not want to show the emotions we’re feeling in that moment.

Church is where we encounter happy little families. When struggling with infertility, we wish more than anything that our family was bigger. When we’re missing our baby boy who is in Heaven, and the woman the next row over has a newborn in her arms, it magnifies our loss. We are reminded that it’s not been easy to grow our own thriving family. Many of us are hyper-aware of the baby boom in churches. Look around a church on a Sunday morning (pre-covid) and you’ll probably see pregnant women, babies strapped to a mama’s chest, or little ones crawling all over the floor! I felt surrounded by cute little families who might not feel like they’ve got it all together, but they certainly appear that way. When struggling to become pregnant, my heart ached when surrounded by all those families. These days, it’s hard to be around women with young babies.

Church is where we encounter the opinions of others. When you publicly share your infertility experience with others like I did, you open yourself up to what they have to say. Oh boy, do church people have things to say! I’ve been given suggestions on the technical aspect of trying to conceive (TMI, but thanks though!) I’ve been given good advice and bad. I’ve tried to graciously receive well-meaning advice that rubs me the wrong way. I’ve put a smile on my face when I wanted to scream or cry. What means the most to me are genuine prayers, personal testimonies that give hope, and prophetic words that resonate in my mind for years. To me, those things are worth it.

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are particularly difficult when churches casually or intentionally celebrate those who have had children. Those were the days I simply stayed home. Other women, grieving from their barrenness, have shared with me that they find it really hard to go to church at all, because the pain is so great. As one who has attended church nearly every Sunday of my life, Mother’s Day was my breaking point in those years before our daughter was born. For weeks in advance I would plan to attend, but for several years in a row, my husband and I stayed home, went for a walk, and spent time grieving in the arms of our Heavenly Father. I had been looking forward to this upcoming Mother’s Day, planning to have two children in my arms, hoping that the pain of the past would be well behind me. However, this upcoming Mother’s Day will be exactly 5 months after I learned that my son had died. For me, Mother’s Day is still tainted with grief, and it’s a tough day when churches seem to forget that many are hurting.

I’ve seen that sorrow can change to joy in an instant. One summer morning in 2017, I awoke to discover that I was pregnant for the first time. In an instant, my life changed. That weekend, I went to church knowing I was pregnant, and I realized that my cloud of grief was gone. I saw a pregnant woman, and my heart didn’t break, because I realized that it was my turn too. I had pressed through the grief and allowed people to stand in prayer with us while asking God for children, so our sorrow transforming to joy had to be shared. In the days and weeks following our first positive pregnancy test, I began telling people that we were expecting a baby, and I watched people react with joy.

Joy can become sorrow just as quickly. In 2020, I was delighted to carry our son in my womb. I was tired and queasy on Sunday mornings, but I was happy to be at church again after some months at home during the pandemic. Then one day, our baby stopped moving, we learned that he had died, and he was stillborn a few days later. Returning to church meant that people who didn’t know us might notice that I was no longer pregnant and we had no baby in our arms. People who did know us might feel sad for us. It felt awkward.

It is tough. Some women who love God wholeheartedly don’t feel like they can face a church congregation on Sunday mornings. Some push through the pain and keep going. I would encourage any woman struggling with church during infertility to ask God for His direction as you navigate grief within community. Remember that Hebrews 10:25 tells us to not give up meeting with other believers, but to encourage one another. We need it! Do all that you can to plug into Christian community!

Yes, it’s hard to connect in a church when your heart aches from infertility or the death of your baby. Even though I often walked into church feeling grief during 7 years of infertility, I found the prayers and encouragement to be worth it. I had to push through during the harder moments. I had to hold myself together for pregnancy announcements and baby dedications. I had to ignore the nursing mother’s room. I had to look away from those expanding bellies and tiny babies. Yet the people praying for me, the words of encouragement, and simply coming to church to meet with God – those things were worth it for me.

To the woman or the couple struggling to conceive, you are not alone. I want every woman wrestling with infertility to know that you are not the only one feeling that way, even if you feel like you’re in cloud of grief when you walk into a church. You might only see the moms and families, but you are not alone in your struggle.

To those who have experienced the death of a child, it is so difficult, but I believe that it’s good to not quit. You can take that hard step of setting foot back into the church, you can receive the hugs, support, prayers, and love that others will offer. Allow God’s presence to wash over you, even if it means you’re hunched down on your seat weeping. Other people might not understand, they might not say the right thing, they might even offend you in your grief. Receive comfort from the Holy Spirit, receive God’s all-sufficient grace for what you’re going through.

Pastors and church leaders, I want you to know that the sorrow on the shoulders of women unable to bear children is hard to explain. It’s very, very painful. Please know that it’s tough for struggling couples to keep walking through your doors into a roomful of families when their hearts are full of grief.

Finally, let’s not forget the couples who were never able to have children and who still carry their grief into church. It can hurt to see those baby bumps and growing families, even when you’re beyond your childbearing years. Baby showers and anything related to fertility can feel tender in the hearts of a couple who wanted children but were never blessed with them.

If you made it to the end of this blog post – THANK YOU! If you have a friend at church struggling with infertility, let her know you love her or him and that you’re praying. You might find the following posts or the book Embracing Hope During Infertility helpful:

Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Grief, and Church – Hope Changes Everything (hopeduringinfertility.com)

Churches: Keep Praying for Those Longing for Children – Hope Changes Everything (hopeduringinfertility.com)