For many years, my husband and I wanted children. We both felt that this should be the natural result of unfoldment in a loving, stable marriage. But years passed without my conceiving. I decided to resign my position as a teacher, partly because I felt that the stress from my job was interfering with my ability to conceive. (I had a great deal of spiritual growing to do!)
During the next five years, I pursued other interests and enjoyed traveling with my husband. As time passed, however, I became increasingly impatient. When friends or relatives would share news of a pregnancy with us, I would try to be happy for them. But later, I would break down in tears and a flood of self-pity. My frustration grew to the point that I could no longer bear to be the only woman in my circle of friends and family without children. I truly felt that God had neglected me.
Some of my friends encouraged me to try medical means to become pregnant. I had not yet learned, or even asked, what God thought about this. (I was angry at Him, remember?) Anyway, I decided that since He had neglected me, I could turn to the medical field to see what they had to offer. My husband and I were introduced to a completely unfamiliar way of thinking. What the doctor offered us was not guaranteed. He even described it as a gamble, rather than a science. After months of failure, we stopped these treatments.
